


What is 'Sane'

by Winchesteralism



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Graphic Description of Corpses, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 04:05:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchesteralism/pseuds/Winchesteralism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel didn't always see things- didn't always hear things. But after a traumatic accident as a child, he's become prey to his own subconscious. Each day he's gotten closer and closer to giving up, until one day a man named Dean came crashing into his life. And maybe, just maybe, he can give Cas the will to overcome, to live, and most importantly; to love. Destiel AU. Mental!Cas</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day Infinity in Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to an all new story! This one is particularly close to my heart, and I hope you love it as much as I do. I plan on it being a long fic, so I hope you join the train with me!
> 
> Taken over from likeghostsinthesn0w
> 
> BIG thanks to my beta BlueEyes444! I can not thank you enough :)
> 
> Story can also be found on fanfiction.net
> 
> Reviews and Comments are more than appreciated, and with that; enjoy.
> 
> (Rating will be changed to M in later chapters)

~~ 

I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad

The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had

I find it hard to tell you 'cause I find it hard to take

When people run in circles it's a very very

Mad World

~~

    They'd come to him every day and every night, the demons in his head; dance in front of him and show their blackened eyes, twisted limbs, and their pale sickly skin. They'd laugh, the noise piercing his delicate ear drums. They'd often tease and taunt the poor man, the same way they'd done since he was just a boy, since the...that night. They often called him names, told him to do evil and terrible things.

    He tried to ignore them. He'd been trying for years. Some days they wouldn't bother him at all, but those days were few and far between. And now as Castiel sat on the edge of his bed, with the voice of the girl he'd dubbed 'Meg' muttering obscenities at him; he started to think he should just end it all. Slit his wrists like the demons told him, or hang himself. He could overdose, or just step out into traffic. Maybe jump off a building. He'd always wanted to fly, and they said falling was the same as flying, except with a more permanent destination. At least then it would end.

    The woman laughed at him.

    "Going to off yourself, Cassie?" she sniggered. "I knew you couldn't wait to start eternity with me!"

    A chorus of voices joined in with her; men, women, even the evil bastard children. Their faces loomed at the windows of his room, threatening to burst in at any moment. Castiel sprung up from the bed, and went over to the wall. After a stare off with the face of a new, particularly harsh featured man, he gripped the windowsill, and as the voices got louder and teeth gnawed at bleeding lips, he hit his head into the bare brick wall of his apartment repeatedly, until blood trickled down his face, blurring his vision. It was a pain he was used to, sometimes it was the only thing that would make them stop. He would rather this than take his medication. They faded and their shrieks along with them, peace settling over Cas.

After cleaning up the nasty wound on his head, he changed out of his wreaking nightwear, and bundled them into a brown paper bag. He pulled on his jeans, white tee and green hooded sweatshirt and rushed out the door. On his way to the laundrette he kept his eyes to the floor, and his hood pulled up to conceal the mark from wandering, judgmental eyes. His hands were trembling around the bag- he hated being in public. But trips to the launderette were necessary, and as he opened the door he braced himself for the ring of the bell above it. It was a shrill, cruel noise, and he despised it. Cas dashed over to his usual machine, number 12, and hurried to load it. He fumbled around in his pocket for a coin to get the wash going, but he found his pocket was empty. Puzzled, he checked the other pocket. But that was empty too. Castiel continuously patted his pockets, convinced that something would turn up if he patted hard enough. The man next to him looked down, wanting to offer his quarters for the machine, but the frantic expression on Castiel's face scared him.

    Castiel was worried, he never forgot his money- not ever. He earned it himself, he had a job at home making spreadsheets and doing data analysis for Google. It meant he didn't have to leave home, he didn't have to talk to anyone, and he could protect the world from the monsters. From himself. But none of that mattered if he didn't remember to bring his money with him when he was out.

    The man looked at him again, concern rocking his features. His eyebrows pinned together, and he reached into his back pocket for some change. Castiel noticed him and shuddered. The man towered over him, and he held an intimidating stance, far to confident for liking.

    "Here, take this." He said, holding out the coins in his hand for Castiel to take.

    Cas shook his head minutely and continued to search his pockets. The man sighed, and leaned across to Castiel's machine, his biceps rippling underneath his khaki tee shirt. Well that just intimidated Cas even more.

    "Take it. Please."

    Castiel considered it for a moment, his eyes roaming over the way the man palmed the change in a roughly calloused hand. He debated whether clean pyjamas were worth the torment he'd get later on for talking to this man, and a sharp inhale of his clothes' scent told him all he needed to know, so he gingerly accepted the money, albeit reluctantly.

    "Th-tha-nk y-you." Was all Castiel could manage. His throat was hoarse and croaky, he didn't often speak out loud. The man smiled, completely oblivious to the stutter, before turning and soon turned back to his own laundry. Cas found himself distracted by the man though, he kept looking over from under the safety of his hood, peeking at the 6ft Adonis with a leather jacket slung over his shoulder. He seemed a nice enough guy, but then again… he'd seemed like a nice man to. Besides if he knew anything about Castiel, he'd run for the proverbial hills taking his gorgeous green eyes with him. The detergent sat on the shelf below the washer, so Castiel leant down to pick it up, inadvertently causing his hood to slip down and away from his face. The sharp cold air hit Castiel's exposed ears and the nape of his neck, sending shivers wracking through his body. Cas's fingers scrambled to pull his hood back up, but it was too late, the man saw the massive cut on his head, still shiny with oozing blood.

    "Shit man, are you okay?! What happened?"

    "I'm fine,' he croaked. Please leave me.

    The man shook his head, "Shit. What happened? Come on, I'll drive you to the ER, it isn't far away..."

    Castiel could not hear what the man said next, could not feel a pair of large hands on his slender shoulders, all he knew was that his head felt like it would explode, his blood rushed through his body and he began to twitch. Not just any twitch, but those kinds of twitches that appeared to the ordinary passerby as someone who belonged in a mental house. It was violent and unnerving to watch. Excruciating for Cas to bear. If you've ever seen video clips of WW1 soldiers suffering from post-traumatic stress ticks, well, that was what Castiel got...just before the whoreson demons emerged. He knew that this guy would be freaking out, and so would the other people in the launderette. He braced himself for the eerie feeling that was about the settle over him, the calm before the storm. Castiel knew he had to leave, he didn't want to put this people in danger, but his new 'friend' was stopping him. He met the man's eyes and tried desperately to get out of his vice like grip.

    "I need to leave, you don't understand. These people are in danger if I stay."

    The man was confused as all hell, and his face showed it. "I don't know what the hell is going on man, you need to calm down."

    He lacked conviction, and Castiel saw his chance. He wriggled frantically and shoved the carts of laundry out of his way, catapulting himself through the open door. The voices came first. They always came first. They began to taunt and tease him for not being strong enough to deal with such a simple task, their disgusting faces adopted the folk on the street. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, till he was back at his apartment building.

    The stupid bitch who called herself Meg was sporting a hangman's noose dangling from the top floor banister where her eyes were pinned on Castiel as he climbed the stairs, stupid elevator was out of order. Again.

    "Go away Meg." he muttered as he reached his door.

    "Why on earth would I do that sweetie? It's me and you time now..." Her voice drifted through the air from her spot on the staircase. She then stood next to him, rubbing against him, her hand on his midriff. She fingered the fabric of his hoodie before pulling enticingly at the drawstrings. She made his skin crawl. He shoved her away, repulsed to the core at her forward actions.

    'She's not real, she's not real, she's not real,' he repeated over and over again, hoping that if he said it enough she would disappear.

    Castiel often chanted this in his head, but found out that the other's voices were drowning him out. Strangely, they were quiet today. Just him and Meg. That was probably why his body had reacted the way it had, to the man seeing his head. Meg had noticed.

    "Leave me alone. You're not real, you can't hurt me."

    She burst into hysterical laughter.

    "Oh Castiel, I think you'll find...that I most definitely can." She ran at him full force before bursting right as she touched him.

    Castiel held his breath and counted until he got back under control. He knew she would be in there waiting for him. He gently rested his forehead on the door; trying with everything inside him to keep it together, but the more days that went by, the harder it was to continue to cope. He couldn't keep doing this, he was breaking. He'd been able to deal with it until the recent escalation. They'd appear once a week on any random day. Any random day except Thursday. Some weeks, though, would be more frequent, and likewise some weeks he was completely alone. Now it was as many times as they wanted a day. Even on his cherished Thursdays. The sinking feeling in his shriveled heart was unbearable.

    Castiel knew that he was going to have to see Dr. Singer, and that made him feel absolutely sick. For one, that meant getting help, which was one thing they never let him do. Going to see him always made it worse. But Singer would also find out he hadn't taken his medication in a year, and he would be in the doghouse. But it had to be done. He was tired of it all. Tired of being alive, and definitely tired of fighting, if he was to be honest with himself. His body was 23, but in reality, and in the way he ached to his very core, he was 50 years older than than that. Pulling out his phone, he speed dialed Singer. The feeling of his body growing heavier made Castiel want to buckle to the floor, but he stood tall. It was all he could do to keep what's left of his sanity. He knew Dr Singer would chew his head off; it was inevitable. But that was better than anything Meg could throw at him. He hoped. She'd actually thrown a dead ferret at him once and the blood had stained his skin for days.

    'Breathe Cas, breathe.' He thought. 'Don't think about her.'

    The secretary answered on the second ring. "Dr. Singer's office, how can I help you?"

    "Hi Joanna, it's Castiel Novak. I doubt you remember me… Is it possible for me to get an appointment Doctor Singer today?"

    He heard the ruffling of paper.

    "Sure thing sweetie, it's you're lucky day, there's a slot open right now."

    "Thank you Jo."

    Jo could hear him smile through the phone, and then there was the telltale sounds of a disconnection. It broke her heart. She did remember Castiel; he was such a good man. She knew he didn't deserve the illness that was inflicted upon him from what she gathered hearing his and Dr Singer's conversations. She placed the phone back on its holster, and then sent Singer a page. She scanned her Filofax with today's appointments. After penciling in Castiel, Singer only had one other patient by the name of "Winchester D." She pondered what the 'D' stood for, but not for very long, and went to get herself a nice mug of coffee.

~~

**And that is Chapter 1! The next chapter will be up shortly, but as I haven't 100% finished it, if you guys have any plot bunny suggestions, I'd love to hear them. Review!**

**~ Magnolia**


	2. Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's an update!
> 
> This chapter is partially that of likeghostsinthesn0w, and it will be the last of which I co-write.
> 
> Once again, thank you SO much BlueEyes444 for beta-ing by work!
> 
> Reviews keep me sane! ;)
> 
> (Rating will be changed to M in later chapters)

~~  


There's no tellin' what might happen when you get to the end of a chain reaction.

It's girl meets boy; boy meets girl, all around this random and crazy world

tryin' to make sense out of coincidence.

~~

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Doctor Singer. I can only apologize for not have come to see you sooner."

While Castiel's words were clearly spoken, his hands were trembling, and his knees were up by his chest with his chin weighing down on them. His whole body screamed unease and discomfort.

"It's no problem Castiel. No problem at all. Now, when did you last visit me?" As Doctor Singer began to look back through his sheets, Castiel piped up.

"It's been two years and a month, February 3rd 2011. At 4pm..." He trailed off. He knew Dr. Singer already knew this, and he'd set himself up for it.

"That's a very long time Castiel. I signed you for medication, but not to last that long. You should have run out..."

"7 months ago," Cas muttered, playing with the loose threads of his sleeves and doing his best to avoid all eye contact with his doctor- and definitely not telling him that it didn't matter that his prescription had run out, because he hadn't taken them in a year anyway.

"Ziprasidone, if I remember correctly?"

The young man nodded. The older sighed.

"Why have you come to see me, Mr Novak?"

"I'm not Mr Novak."

"What? Castie-"

"I am not Mr Novak. I am not Mr Novak. I am not Mr Novak! NOT, I AM NOT, I AM NOT MR NOVAK." Castiel began to thrash in his seat, hands clawing at his chest and throat.

Dr. Singer sprang to his feet before Castiel could say or do anything else. He placed the flat of his palm on his shoulder, and looked him in the eye. "Breathe with me Castiel. Breathe with me. In, 2, 3, 4. Out, 2, 3, 4."

It took about five full minutes before Castiel stilled in his seat and for his cries to dull down. He continued to whimper his defense, and Singer mentally scalded himself for referring to Cas as Mr. Novak.

He'd made this mistake before.

~~

Dean fidgeted in the brown leather chair, shifting his position every few seconds to avoid leaving a print. He was always conscious of that, like what if his ass left a really fat print? He liked to think he had a decent butt and didn't want to leave any evidence suggesting otherwise. He glanced up at the clock on the far wall, squinting slightly to see the time. His appointment was supposed to have been nine minutes ago. Jo smiled sympathetically from behind her desk, seeing how uncomfortable he seemed to be. She crossed the space between them, and settled down in the chair across from him.

"Do you want a cup of coffee, Mr. Winchester? Or maybe a soft drink? Or a snack?"

Dean returned the smile, then shook his head. "No thanks, I'm alright." As if in an afterthought, Dean turned back to her and smiled, "And you can call me Dean."

"If you're sure? I don't mind,' she paused. "Dean." She smiled again after saying his name, but it was a much brighter smile that reached her eyes and caused her nose to scrunch up a little.

He chuckled and leaned forward, placing his chin in his hands. "You know how much longer Bobby is gonna be?"

The use of Doctor Singer's first name threw Jo off slightly, but she shook her head. Dean sighed in response.

Curious as to what would cause a patient to call the doctor buy his first name, Jo hesitantly asked, "So do you know Doctor Singer well?"

"Yeah..." Dean answered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, he knew my um… my family. He was like a dad to me and to my brother, Sam. Hell, he was our dad. He had to pull a few strings apparently, to have me as a, uh, patient…given our relationship. But at the end of the day, the board respected him too much to fuck with him."

Jo sat silently, listening to Dean. In the end all she said was, "I see." She really didn't want to press him any further. She did however wonder about the relationship between Dean and Robert, or 'Bobby', and why Dean needed to see him. He didn't seem problemed, not like the other patients.

She left Dean in the waiting room, and went to the small kitchen down the corridor to grab a cup of her favorite drug. She loved the kitchen with its yellow peeling wallpaper and old wooden paneling, even the humming noise of the refrigerator. It reminded her of the house she grew up in. Well, more specifically the upper floors of the bar her family owned. Their kitchen had been almost the same. Her mother never could afford to fix it, as she'd rather pay the bills and ensure Jo had everything she needed then spruce up a kitchen.

When she returned to the waiting room, she buzzed the intercom to Dr. Singer's office. When there was no answer, she adopted a perplexed expression and tried again. Nothing. She glanced over at Dean who was starting to get restless and fidgety. Taking a sip of her steaming coffee, she waited a few more seconds and buzzed again. More silence.

Dean was getting more agitated by the minute, and had now taken to standing to keep it at bay. This almost distracted Jo from the task at hand. He was tall, taller than she'd expected, at least 6ft. And he was huge, his torso and shoulders were incredibly broad, and she would have bet everything she owned that the rest of him was just as delicious as what she could see at present. She had to clear her throat before involuntarily flicking her hair, (it just happened ok. Call it a girl reflex.) Pressing on the intercom one more time, Jo tried again for Dr. Singer.

"WHAT IS IT JO?"

Bobby's reaction startled her. She didn't quite know what to say. He'd never shouted at her before now. He'd called her an idjit once or twice, but she'd come to think of it as a term of endearment.

"I have a Dean Winchester here. He's been waiting for an appointment that should have started 15 mi-"

"Ah shoot. Send him in Jo."

He disconnected before she could say anything else. Slightly startled, she turned to see Dean already standing and waved her hand in the direction of the door. "He's all yours."

The door opened from the other side before Dean could grasp the handle, and he was met with startling blue. Dean's eyes widened and he stepped back quickly. It was the guy from the launderette! The crazy one with the huge gash on his head. Well, he was in a psych's office so obviously Dean wasn't wrong with the crazy part. That shit had freaked him the fuck out. All he'd tried to do was offer him some change and help for the wound, but the guy had flipped! The whole launderette had been watching and the whole thing left Dean incredibly embarrassed. Needless to say, Dean was a bit wary of the man in front of him.

Crystal blue eyes widened dramatically when he finally took notice of Dean. The man's hands began to tremble, and his fingers desperately fumbled for his sleeves, as though trying to conceal himself as thoroughly and as effectively as possible. Dean couldn't help but be attracted to him though. The intensity of his eyes was alarmingly beautiful, and he couldn't help but feel sucked in by their depth. His hair didn't escape the analysis either. The way his nearly black hair was tousled to perfection. Like sex hair. Like I-just-had-the-best-sex-of-my-life sex hair. Dean just wanted to run his fingers through it. It's not like he could help it, he'd always dug the whole vulnerable look, and this guy definitely had that down. But he had a worrying frame, something he'd picked up in hindsight from the launderette incident. The guy was bony as hell. Dean just wanted to take him out for a beer and some pie.

Bobby's eyebrows knotted in mild confusion at the looks passing between the two men, but just ushered Castiel past Dean and out into the corridor. Dean could hear them muttering.

"I want you to come see me tomorrow ok? Promise me you'll be here Castiel."

Cas nodded, his eyes flickering back to the man from the launderette. Bobby noticed the exchange again and asked what was going on between them. "I just, I…uh… we met today at the launderette..."

Bobby nodded as Cas trailed off, realizing that Dean was the one who's gripped Castiel's arms to try to keep him steady before he began to freak out. What Dean probably didn't know was that he had left large purple bruises on the lightly tanned skin. Dean often didn't know his own strength, and well, Castiel bruised like a peach.

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow. And thank you Doctor. I will take my medication this time. I promise."

Bobby nodded, doubt plaguing his mind. Castiel would never take that medication. Not really. Bobby thought perhaps he needed someone in his life to be a reason to take it. It would probably be the only way to ensure Castiel took better care of himself. But he was also aware of the 5 million problems that came with that. He patted the younger man on the shoulder, and sent him in the direction of the door. Castiel smiled softly, before turning and walking out, pausing a moment as he sidestepped Dean on the way.

"Hey old man," Dean said, arms open for a hug. Bobby couldn't help the grin that spread across his face, and he re-entered the room to hug the man he still thought of as a young boy.

"Hey there, you big idjit!"

~~

  
**Ok, I know this chapter is short, but it had to be on on its own, so ya. BUT, I had several days of standardized testing this week ( ew :'( ) so if my beta can get the next chapter back to me by tomorrow, I can upload it this weekend! And I SWEAR it's longer. Please please PLEASE tell me what you think! Your opinions matter to me so much! With that, adieu!**

  
**(Song was 'Coincidence' by Aaron Kelly)**

**~ Magnolia**


	3. Payback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for an update!I personally really like this chapter, so... ya!
> 
> And it's longer then the last one like promised!
> 
> Um, Trigger Warning: If blood and other forms of mental torture is a thing for you... then don't read this chapter
> 
> Currently un-betad
> 
> Hope you like it!

~~ 

****

**Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive ******

****

**And I don't want the world to see me,**

****

**Because I don't think that they'd understand**

****

**When everything's made to be broken- >**

~~ 

*1 week later*

Castiel groaned and struggled weakly to his feet. It had been a week since he had gone to Dr. Singer's office, and Meg and the others were staying true to their word when it came to making him pay for getting help. The Ziprasidone had long since been flushed down the toilet, but that wasn't enough- he should've known, really. He was weak- to go and get help, and now he was paying the price.

The second he came back after his second visit, they'd been waiting. His apartment had been turned into a death trap. The rotting flesh of god knows what was splattered over every surface, and the smell. The rancid flesh was lying in clumps and strips over everything, the counters, the walls, the floor, everything. 'No' Castiel thought, 'No. Please. Anything but my-' Before he could even complete the thought he lurched his way forward and into his office, doing his best to block out the smell of the rotting meat around him. When he reached the door that led to his office, he took a deep breath and let out a quick prayer before putting his hand on the red door knob and letting himself in.

Blood was dripping off the counters and crusting on the floor. With barely contained horror, Castiel let his eyes travel to his life support.

No.

His laptop, the one thing that kept him from having to go out, the thing that supplied him with money and food and allowed him to keep a house over his head and keep people from coming to call on him.

Why did they have to get his laptop?

Oozing out of the keyboard were trails of congealed blood. He just watched, horrified, as one trail thickened and stretched. It grew- until what seemed like an eternity later it broke off, and fell to the floor with a sickening splash. Nauseated, Castiel fled, running back down the hallway and to the door, needing to get out of whatever sickening joke they had decided to play on him.

He moved to turn the knob to just get out, but it wasn't turning. Both his hands and the knob were slick with blood, and he just needed out now. Castiel started to panic and pawed at the door wildly.

Trapped.

The sickly smell of the flesh was starting to overwhelm him, and he started to throw himself against the door over and over again. At one point over the ringing in his head he heard someone screaming. Loudly. He didn't even have time to register that it was him before he slipped and was sent crashing to the floor.

Red. Everything was red.

The world slowly stopped spinning, and Castiel found himself face to face with a lump of bloodied torn flesh. Before he could even come to terms with that alone, a maggot squeezed itself out of a fold in the skin, letting loose a trail of blood in its wake. It surged forward, and wriggled over the length of meat until it toppled into the sea of blood around it. Slowly, more and more started coming out of the carcass. They congregated, and started forming a mass of putrid sentience.

Slowly, the pile of them grew, their milky white skin turning the same color red as the blood around them. They pushed against one another and started moving, coming closer and closer to Castiel's frozen body. There were hundreds of them now, all covered in tiny bits of skin and things he didn't want to even think about. They covered him, and wormed their way into every crevice available. He could see their faces, their black beady eyes and their mouths filled with mashes of flesh. They nuzzled their way under his clothes, and wriggled until he was completely swaddled in their squirming bloodied bodies.

Castiel's vision began to fog over and swirl. His stomach pitched; and Cas had seconds to lurch to his hands and knees before acid clawed its way up his throat to join the pools of red at his feet. His head blurry and buzzing, his ears ringing, and his throat burning, Castiel found himself completely gone to the world. Muscles abandoning him, he collapsed back to the floor, landing in his own bile and back into the mass of maggots and blood.

Lying there, completely vulnerable to whatever else they had planned for him. Castiel could only wait for them to show their faces. He had no energy left, no ounce of will or ability to do anything but take whatever they decided he deserved.

He didn't have to wait long.

Over the ever-present ringing cascading through his skull, a new sound came into play. He could hear the faint laughter of the demon that so often appeared to him. Her heeled boots clicked down the hall, getting louder every second. From his view on the floor, he could only watch as she sidled up to him, and crouched down, looking him dead in the eye. She turned her head a little to the right in mock concern.

"How you doing, Clarence? You don't look so good. Do you not like your welcome present?"

Once again the world started swirling and darkening around him. This time he welcomed it, as it was the only form of escape he was going to get. Right as he was about to fall into the fog that was dragging him under, Meg laughed and reached forward, yanking him up by his neck and leveling him in front of her eyes.

"Oh no you don't, Clarence. You see, I'm a bit bored at the moment, and I think it's time you and I play a game. It'll be fun! Don't conk out on me now! You wouldn't want to leave me alone, would you?" she cackled then, clearly ecstatic with the way things were going.

"It's going to be a great week. You'll see!"

~~

Every day since coming home to the death trap had been no better than the last. When his head stopped swirling and the world around him began to make sense again; the maggots were gone, as was all traces of the blood in the room around him. He struggled to his feel and all but ran to the shower to wash off the blood and vomit that was quickly drying and sticking to his every pore.

Castiel threw himself into the bathroom and brokenly turned the shower on. Freezing water pelted from the showerhead, and Castiel quickly stripped out of his blood crusted and soaked clothes and stepped in, huddling himself into the corner of the stall until the water warmed up. Slowly, after some of the heat had soaked back into his locked muscles, he shifted until he was under the steaming showerhead. The blood rolled off his shoulders and hair and collected in the bottom of the stall, turning the water a sickly shade of pink. Doing his best to ignore what he was doing, Castiel raised his hands to his hair and frantically started running his fingers through it, dislodging masses of… things and other questionable substances as fast as he could, and doing his best to keep his stomach level when he heard the unmistakable splashes and thunks when they hit the ground.

As soon as he felt like his hair was free, he started shivering deeply, his whole body rocking and heaving. He lashed out and grabbed the lip of the soap stand and gripped it for all it was worth. With a locked jaw, Castiel squeezed his eyes closed and did his best to breathe evenly.

Slowly the world stopped spinning and Cas was able to finish washing. He kept his eyes closed and blindly reached for the soap. When his fingers trailed over the familiar slippy surface, he closed his fingers around it and brought it to his body. With quick, precise movements, Castiel lathered himself and stepped under the water once more.

The thick, creamy liquid splattered onto his shoulders and oozed its way down, sliding over his slick body and splattering onto the tile below. The unmistakable smell of sex mixed with the heat of the room- and wait what?

Castiel's eyes flew open to view the scene around him. White, thick fluid sputtered out of the showerhead and coated his face and body. With utter horror, Cas staggered backwards, wildly pushing the stuff out of his face and slapping it off his body. His momentum caught up to him then, and he slipped. Castiel crashed to the ground, catching his head on the soap stand in the process. With a muted groan, Castiel rolled himself into a ball and clutched his throbbing head in his hands. When he looked up, the water was back to normal, if not cold.

With shaky movements, Castiel quickly ran himself under the cold shower and dried off. Clutching the towel to himself, Cas hesitantly opened the bathroom door and glanced into the hall.

Nothing.

Everything was back to the way he had left it. The walls were clean, the halls were clear; nothing was disturbed. Castiel took a deep breath and let it out slowly, allowing himself to feel it all the way down to his toes. Shakily, yet more solid than before, Cas headed to his room and closed the door. He looked around it then, as if to check to make sure everything was normal, and in its place. His bed was made, his side table was meticulously organized with his books in a neat pile to the left stacked largest to smallest, and with a glass of water filled to the halfway mark on a small coaster closest to the bed. Relaxing at the familiarity, Castiel went to his closet and opened it. His few belongings were organized by type, use, and color; each piece folded neatly and directly on the crease in their designated sections.

Quickly, Castiel pulled out a pair of sweat pants and an oversized shirt and slipped them on. He would have to clean his hoodie and get it dry soon, if he wanted to have at least a semi-normal day. He exited his room then, and went to the kitchen.

Empty.

Still on guard, Castiel went over to the pantry to try and find something edible, or at least not expired. He pulled out a loaf of bread, and counted it at least a small victory that is was only slightly stale. He turned around and put it in the toaster. To wait out the time, Castiel prepped some coffee, and in no time he had a piping hot cup in one hand and a piece of toast in the other. Castiel guided himself to the table and sat down heavily, resigning himself to drinking his coffee and eating in peace.

During the time that it took for Cas to drain the cup of coffee, he relaxed into the idea that after last night and this morning's episodes, Meg would leave him in peace. Castiel almost smiled at that, and went to put another piece of bread in the toaster.

In a few moments, he heard the cheerful little 'ding!' that announced the readiness of the toast. Once he got it, he put it on his plate and proceeded to butter it in practiced motions. After it was spread evenly and to ever corner of the bread, Castiel set the knife down and lifted the bread to his lips.

While he ate, he preoccupied himself with looking out the semi-closed blinds at the street before him. The runners and the cyclists would go by every few moments, taking full advantage of the sidewalk available. Castiel's chewing slowed, as he watched, and presently noticed an odd texture in the bread. Cautiously, Cas bit down on the object, and felt if not heard the squish-

Revulsion washed through Cas and he spit his food onto the plate. Right in the middle of the bite was a mash of three or four maggots, pathetically wriggling their half mutilated bodies. Half delirious, Castiel glanced at the toast he was almost halfway through eating. Maggots moved and squirmed under the sheen of butter and would every now and then fall out and land onto the plate. Cas could feel the ones moving in his stomach, and he promptly ran to the trashcan and threw up what little he had eaten.

"Rise and shine, Clarence!" As if on cue, Meg came strolling into the kitchen. Grimacing, Castiel rinsed off his mouth and turned to face her.

"What do you want, Meg?"

"Nothing!" Meg declared, innocently. She then gestured over to the toast on the table, still squirming with bugs. "You going to finish that?"

Castiel only glared at her. Meg shrugged, and wondered over to the abandoned toast, bringing in to her lips easily. She took a large bite and chewed noisily, taking care to swirl the food around in her mouth obscenely.

Trying not to feel nauseated again, Castiel turned away from her, waiting for Meg to finish and state why she was here, if she had a purpose at all.

"Oh Clarence, don't ignore me like that! It was a joke! We're going to have a good time. I swear."

~~ 

Meg stayed with him for the next week, never truly leaving him alone. The majority of the day Castiel found himself in a ball in a corner of the room, holding himself as tightly as possible and praying for it all to end. Every time he went to eat he went to eat he would find the food crawling with maggots, or halfway through decomposing with fermenting juices collecting around it. He didn't have much luck on the drink field either, it was all blood.

After a while, he just stopped trying.

She wouldn't let him eat, wouldn't let him drink, and wouldn't let him sleep. Castiel was beginning to wonder what he could do. No sooner had he thought it that a noose cracked down from the ceiling and hung in front of him.

Oh.

On day four, Castiel finally gave in to sleeping. He had been walking down the hallway when the ground just got closer. And then it wasn't the cold, wooden floor, it was a bed. A king bed. One with 2000 count sheets and with a mattress so soft…

Castiel awoke to being flung onto the ceiling.

Meg stood under him, positively livid with fury. "What is your problem?! You agreed you wouldn't go to sleep! So I come back, ready to have a lovely chat, and where are you?"

Meg started throwing him back and forth in the air, slamming him into the wall with every pause. "Where are you but sleeping!"

The others appeared next to her then, distorted faces laughing and jeering up at him. Occasionally, one would flick their hand to send him crashing into another wall over and over again, drawing out shrieks of pleasure from the crowd below. Slowly, Castiel lost everything; he couldn't see, couldn't hear, and couldn't breathe. The only thing he really knew was the pain.

"What are you doing Castiel!?" Meg screeched, "Flying from the rafters, I guess that's all fags like you do anyways, huh?!"

Castiel felt his nose shatter then, as she threw him into the wall. He felt the hot tears stream down his bloody face, stinging whenever they ran into one of his cuts.

"Please. Please I'm not- I'm not a fag. I'm not gay. I'm not gay! Meg PLEASE! I'M NOT! DAD? DAD I'M YOUR SON! PLEASE BELIEVE ME! DAD I'M NOT! I WOULDN'T! DAD PLEASE! NOT GAY. I'M NOT GAY! NOT. GAY…"

Castiel's voice grew louder and louder, until he was practically screeching. He felt his throat rip and split at the seams, but he didn't care. He needed him to understand. He yelled until nothing came out but a strangled cry. He screamed until his eyes puffed over and his ears burst.

Slowly, Meg lowered the catatonic man onto the floor. She looked at him then, eyes black and emotionless as he lay there unresponsive.

"Ok enough!" Meg yelled, kicking Castiel in the side. Hard. "Clarence, I think you've learned your lesson, ok? I forgive you. Just promise me you won't try and pull something like that again, ok?

~~

"Well Clarence, it's been fun. I feel like we've bounded a lot more, you know? We've settled some of our differences, and I think that next time we meet will be better for it. But I've been on holiday for too long- and I think it's time to get back. Don't worry! I'll be back soon! Don't get into any trouble now!"

Meg stood before Castiel, though no one would really be able to recognize him. His face was thinner, and his ribs and collar bones stood out. He looked shrunken, and his clothes hung from his body loosly, barely holding on. That wasn't the only thing different about him, though. His eyes were dead, haunted. His skin was almost translucent, and his eyes looked hollowed and sunken in.

Like he was already dead.

She slid up to hin then, grinning wildly. "And I'd hope this isn't just me, but I'd like to think that maybe… you and I, maybe we've gotten closer? You know, on a more personal level?"

She reached out for him and took his hands, choosing to ignore the full body flinch it evoked, and placed them on her waist, stepping closer. Her eyes glinted, and she leaned in, brushing her lips to the shell of his ear.

"Don't you think?"

Slowly, Meg turned her head and trailed her cold lips across his jaw, relishing in the way Castiel's muscles jumped and shrank away from her touch. Finally, she settled on his lips. She crushed their bodies together, wrapping her arms around his neck and running her hands through the hair at the nape of his neck for purchase. Meg trailed her tongue across his lips before dipping in, tracing her tongue along his. Castiel felt cold burrow into his bones- coating him with liquid distress. The cold seeped into him, and Castiel flung his eyes open, wary to the next stage of her torture, but found himself alone in the room.

Not quite remembering what he should be doing, Castiel wandered back to his room and sat on his abandoned bed. The hunger was clawing at his stomach and his throat felt rough and broken, but eating wasn't an option right then. Just the thought of putting something in his mouth was almost enough to make him puke. His skin crawled, and the images of the bugs and decay flashed through his brain, effectively shutting down the idea of eating for any time soon. They had been on everything.

He felt disconnected, which was more than he expected to feel at this point, and laid down on the forgotten mattress, not even bothering to take off his clothes- he didn't have the energy. Castiel closed his eyes, relishing in the blackness. It felt like he was floating...

A chorus of horns blasted through his house, followed by a resounding crash. Castiel shot up in his bed, clutching at the blanket.

No no no no. You said you were gone. You said you'd leave me alone!

Castiel sat there, his grip on the blankets being the only thing keeping him from shooting off the edge. After a few moments, his heart rate slowly started to lower in halting progressions. He sat there, not knowing whether it was ok or not to go back to bed. The door made up his mind for him. A loud ring shot through the house, followed quickly by four or five more rapid-fire rings.

Castiel shot off his bed and ran at the door. The last time he kept Meg waiting…

When he opened the door, a man almost fell into the room. He was sweaty, and breathing heavily. Scared, Castiel stumbled back, distancing himself from the strange man in front of him. Except…

Hesitantly, Castiel whispered, "Hello"

The man looked up then, breath slightly back under control. "Hi. Um, I'm Dean, Dean Winchester. There was an accident right outside, and I don't have my phone. Can I borrow yours to call the cops? It's urgent. I think, shit, I think someone got hurt."

~~

**So ya! Chapter 3! A lot more was supposed to happen in this chapter and this was only supposed to be a side thing, but then what do you know! It turned into a whole chapter that took over everything and pushed the rest aside. Ah well! As is writing!**

**Song was Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls (Though Kellin Quinn's cover is amazing and if you guys haven't heard it you should check it out)**

**Please Review! :)**


	4. Commonplace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's turn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some Dean POV stuff!
> 
> This chapter is set at the same time as chapter 3
> 
> Currently un-betad
> 
> This chapter has been on and off last weekend and I had like 50 million technical difficulties- but it is up now, and hopefully to stay.
> 
> (rating will change to M in later chapters)

 

* * *

  **Commonplace**  


* * *

  **Hey Satan, payed my dues**  
 **Playing in a rocking band**  
 **Hey Momma, look at me**  
 **I'm on my way to the promised land**  
 **I'm on the highway to hell**  
 **And I'm going down, all the way down**  
 **I'm on the highway to hell**  


* * *

The last chords of _Highway to Hell_ rang through the car. Dean lowered his first from the air and placed it back on the wheel, maneuvering the car until it was once again fully in his own lane

The second the song ended he felt the twinges of discomfort pulling at his chest. It wasn't unexpected- it happened every time he had to go to one of those stupid therapist sessions, but it still made him feel all anxious and jumpy and one hundred percent off his game. He hated having to go there, even if it was Bobby who was his therapist. If it had been anyone else, he would have stopped going the day after the court mandate required it. Even still, the appointments always left his feeling raw and exposed, like he was strung out on a rack or some shit.

Dean pulled into his apartment complex and smoothly rolled his baby into the nearest spot. With a wide grin, he mentally fist bumped himself for getting a spot right in front of his building. After cheering himself on for a second, his thoughts flicked back to the session and nerves sprung through his system. His muscles tensed and he ducked his head, in every way adopting a defensive stance. 'A good shower is all I need to relax', he thought.

Normally, the thought of the hot water hitting his skin and working its way into his bones was enough to clear his head and get him back to normal, but today just wasn't doing it for him. He needed to _move_. Frustrated at how annoying he felt, Dean slammed his hand onto the wheel; hard. Immediately following the outburst, Dean stroked the wheel and inwardly apologized profusely. _I'm sorry baby. You didn't do anything wrong. It won't happen again. I promise._

As another burst of fight-or-flight adrenaline rushed through him, Dean cursed and turned his car back on, forfeiting the beloved parking spot in favor of going to work some extra hours at the garage. 'Sides, overtime pays pretty well' Dean thought, sounding resigned even in his head.

He pulled out of the lot and turned back on to the road, alternating between impatiently tapping his hand on the side of the wheel and running his hand through his hair and down his face. He needed to get his hands on something, and he needed that like, 5 years ago. Being under the hood of a car covered in grease and sweat was his element. Being stripped down and viewed under a microscope- wasn't.

10 minutes later of only slightly-over-the-speed-limit driving and he was home. Dean jumped out of his car and headed out back, pausing briefly to stretch his cramped muscles until he heard the satisfying pop. He worked his way through the piles of gears and old tires to get to the wreck he had been charged with fixing. On his way over, he checked in with Garth, his strange new boss. He had taken over for his old boss about a month ago, and he was full of quirky mannerisms that never failed to stump him.

"Any luck fixing that pile of crap?" Gath asked, gesturing over to the barely distinguishable lump of a car.

Groaning, Dean just turned around and headed over to the wreck. Looking at the utter disaster, he couldn't help but wonder why its owner didn't just let it go. The cost of repairing the thing would be far more than just buying a new one. It wasn't even a particularly good car.

2 hours later, Dean pushed out from under the hood. He wiped his hands on a soiled rag and stuck it in the back pocket of his equally soiled old coveralls. Slowly, the car was turning back into what would one day be drive-able. The long and tedious job of repairing the car had done wonders to his head, and by the time he was done he felt relaxed and calm, albeit drained of any and all energy.

Dean headed home then, dead set on that hot shower he had fantasized about earlier. It would be an awesome end to a truly physically and mentally draining day. The hot water could unroll his muscles, and then maybe afterwards he could pull out that issue of _Busty Asian Beauties_ \- Dean stopped thinking and stepped on the gas.

* * *

The week passed by as uneventfully as they normally do. The car was almost as good as it was gonna get, and then he'd be able to never have to look at the thing again. He loved fixing cars, but some were honestly to much trouble to deal with.

When Dean woke up on Saturday, he couldn't brush off the overwhelming of cabin-fever that he would get every now and then. He'd always lived in such a small town- went to the same places, saw the same people- that every now and then he just had to go out and run or drive somewhere he'd never been before. Dean through on his work-out clothes, not bothering to shower this morning- he'd just do so after he got back.

As he ran down the steps and out the door, he jammed his headphones in his ear and fumbled with the Ipod his brother had thrown his way two Christmas's ago. He'd made a fuss about how this was the thing that destroyed the new generation and caused everyone to listen to fake and crappy music, and how he'd never use it- but what Sam didn't know couldn't hurt exactly hurt him...

Finally, after a lot of cursing and fighting with the device from hell, Dean had it on his playlist and was set to go. The minutes rolled by to the strumming of the epic guitar solos, and every beat brought him one step down the street that would eventually turn off to a new part of town. He turned down streets and random, just 'following the wind', if you will. Eventually, after several more twists and turns down seemingly random roads, he found himself in a fairly high-end part of town- the homes of the more conservative well-off people. They had well-kept lawns and clean glass windows.

Halfway down the sidewalk, AC/DC's _Back in Black_ came on. Dean smiled to himself as he ran and started belting out the lyrics. He was reaching the end of the street, and he felt the build-up of the song before the start of the next chorus. He picked up his pace then and swiveled onto the street, running full out when the sound of the guitar crashed through his ears. The next thing he knew he heard squealing tires and a blaring horn. Opening his eyes in shock, he only had two seconds to see the car heading straight for him. His muscles locked, and he hand barely enough time to back up a step before the car jerked to the left and flew past him. It was as if in slow motion that the car plowed into a light post- colliding with a crash. Dean just stood there, staring in horror at the accident that he knew he had caused. After a moment, Dean came to his senses and jerked towards the car, yanking the headphones out of his ears and throwing them on the ground in the process.

When he reached the car, Dean glanced in the windows. His heart almost stopped when he saw two kids staring back at his through tear-stricken faces. _Fuck._ Dean moved to the driver's window, and saw what caused the kids to look so terrified. In the driver's seat was a woman, most likely their mother, unconscious and face-planted with the steering wheel. A small stream of blood was trailing down her face and dripping onto her pants. Panicking, Dean yanked at the door, trying to get in. When it didn't move, he turned back to the window of the kids and started gesturing wildly at them to unlock the doors. Slowly, with shaky movements, the older of the two fumbled at the lock, and within seconds Dean had the door open and the kids on the sidewalk.

He went back to the parent and carefully got her out of the car. She didn't look too bad, but then again, what the hell did he know about head wounds? He laid her down on the grass, and hastily grasped her wrist to try and catch a pulse. Dean's whole body was shaking, and he had to keep starting over and breathing deeply to try and calm his nerves enough to read on her. After he was sure she wasn't going to drop dead in five seconds, Dean looked up and dashed to the house right across the street. He flew up the steps and rang the alarm. After what felt like waiting a suitable five seconds, Dean started pushing the button repeatedly, desperate for the person to open the door. _'Stupid stupid stupid. Why didn't I bring my phone?'_

After what felt like a year and 500 button pushed later, the door flew open. Standing in the door was a small man with dark hair and wild blue eyes. Wait- the dude from the Bobby's who was the dude from the launderette? Not giving it another seconds thought, Dean stepped into the house and tried to calm him erratic breathing.

"Hello?" The man whispered, quietly. He was standing in a defensive position, but Dean didn't think about it for long. He was a mess after all, and probably had a bit of the woman's blood on him.

"Hi. Um, I'm Dean, Dean Winchester. There was an accident right outside, and I don't have my phone. Can I borrow yours to call the cops? It's urgent. I think, shit, I think someone got hurt."

* * *

**So ya! Once again, a bit short- but I wanted the times to be consistent. In other notes, anyone else going to Dallas Comic-con?  
**

**The song was- for the young ones who do not know- Highway to Hell by AC/DC.**

**May god be with you if you have never heard one of their songs before.**

**Please Review!**

**~Magnolia**


	5. Crossing Into Enemy Territory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently un-betad
> 
> (rating will change to M in later chapters

* * *

**Crossing Into Enemy Territory**

* * *

**I've been searching for someone**

**But never looked before my eyes**

**There you were to my surprise**

**It was so obvious looking into your face**

**(that you were the one for me)**

* * *

Dean honestly thinks he is going to go insane.

The loud tick of the clock hand on the wall pulses through his brain, every second making him cringe and stand on edge. His eyes flick back and forth across the room for what must be the thousandth time, only to consistently land back on the stupid picture of that smiling kid on the wall. It was swinging slowly back and forth in tandem to the cold rush of the air coming from the A/C. The freezing air blew over his skin and made his sweat-covered shirt stick uncomfortably to his skin. He was scared to move or even breathe wrong, and all because of the stupid man sitting next to him.

The man, as he know knew as Castiel, was sitting on the far opposite of the couch, making himself as small as possible. Dean had already made the mistake of sitting a bit to close when they first got to the hospital, and that was not something he wanted to go through again. He had on an oversized sweatshirt and was fiddling with the sleeves and pulling at the threads. When Dean first saw him with it, he entertained the idea that the sweatshirt was his boyfriends, but didn't know how to ask. Things were awkward as it was, he didn't want to think about what would happen if he was wrong.

When the ambulance arrived, Dean and Castiel had been told they had to give statements or something to the police, and had to follow. That had been three hours ago. Over the course of said three hours, the waiting room had filled and eventually emptied, leaving the two of them alone. Every couple of minutes Dean would clear his throat or sharply inhale, as if to say something. He would sit up and turn his head to face the man next to him, after all, awkward silences were never his thing; but every time he'd turn back to facing the wall in front of him and sag back into his seat. He didn't know why this was so difficult; talking to people had always come easy to him.

Finally, after another failed attempt at trying to start a conversation, Dean stood up and quickly mumbled something about going to get coffee. When he did, Castiel's eyes jumped to his face, as if pulled back to reality. His stare caught Dean off guard, and all he could do was stare back into his impossibly blue eyes before awkwardly looking away, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck. After a second Dean repeated himself and started walking off in the direction of the cafeteria, but stopped and turned back to get the small nod of understanding from the other man before exiting.

He didn't quite know what made him get two cups of coffee, it's not like Castiel asked for any, but he decided it would be a bit rude not to, and besides, maybe it would jump start the other man into actually _talking_ to him. With that in mind, Dean let out a small smile and headed back into the waiting room. He sat down on the couch, just a little bit closer than he had before, and handed Castiel the cup. Once he did, he quickly decided to give it a couple of minutes before he said anything. He knew he was just stalling at this point, but he didn't really care.

He played with the cup in his hands a couple of seconds before bringing the mug to his lips. The hot liquid slid down his throat, and even though the coffee itself was crap, he was pleasantly surprised to find it piping hot- just the way he liked it. Finally, Dean steeled his revolve and turned fluidly to face the other man, who was holding the mug loosely in his lap and staring down into it. Dean reached out and lightly touched his shoulder to catch his attention. Dean opened his mouth to start talking but was shocked silent as Castiel recoiled and practically jumped out of his chair. The coffee was flung across the room, but not before the entirety of its contents were sprayed all down Castiel's shirt and pants. When the hot liquid hit his skin, Castiel hissed and his eyes practically bugged out of his skull as he frantically held the sopping fabric away from his skin and jumped to his feet.

"Shit man. I'm so sorry- I" Dean mumbled out as he also stood up and lifted his hands uselessly. After a couple of seconds of just staring at the mess, Dean looks up and swallowed. He found it almost funny how this was the way they were going to start a conversation. Dean mentally cursed whoever had blessed him with such crap luck as he looked at the other man.

Dean started taking off his over shirt, not missing the fact that Castiel's eyes widened at his movements and stepped back a bit further. Gingerly, Dean held out the shirt as if it was a white flag or a fucking olive branch and quickly stuttered out, "So sorry dude. Um- here, put this on. Yours is soaked. Er- I'll just go and… get some towels." Dean practically shoved the shirt into the frozen man's hands before quickly turning and retreating, mentally kicking himself for how stupid he sounded.

When Dean came back with a pile of napkins and towels in hand, he barely restrained the sharp inhale that caused him to jolt to a stop. Castiel had his back to him and was peeling off his shirt. The creamy expanse of his lower back gave rise to scatterings of bruises and harsh lines that marred his back. Dean then looked up as he turned slightly and saw a huge bruise on his shoulder. Before his mind could catch up with what he was saying, he blurted out, "Fuck. What happened to you dude!?" before he mentally cringed at his bluntness and prepared for the other man's reaction.

When Castiel heard Dean's brash comment, panic swept through his body and he quickly pulled the other man's shirt on and buttoned it hurriedly up to the neck. Dean walked over a handed half the stack of towels to Castiel, not looking him in the eyes. Not knowing what to say, Dean busied himself with soaking up the coffee on the floor and the cushion, thanking the lord it was waterproof. Dean _tried_ to not think about the bruises, but he wasn't exactly known for keeping quite. Next thing he knew, he found himself tentatively looking up and addressing the other man again.

"Look- sorry for blurting that out a minute ago- it just took me by surprise. Ah- you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, just, um- you ok man? What did you do?"

When Dean spoke again, Castiel froze for a second before turning to face him. "At the launderette… You are quite strong… and-"Castiel talked quickly and rushed, before his face flushed and he quickly turned away. Slowly, Dean thought about the broken sentences and pieced together what Castiel was trying to say. Dean internally groaned and closed his eyes, trying not to feel sick. "Oh…" was all he could say.

After that, Dean and Castiel fell back into a silence, one far more uncomfortable then the others. After another ten minutes of nothing but the sound of the clock to interrupt the all-encompassing silence, Dean looked at Castiel and started talking to him, this time being careful not to touch him. Slowly, a slow conversation started picking up between the two of them, with simple things such as what they do for a living and their favorite foods. Eventually, Dean found them only a foot away from each other and himself in the middle of an idiotic tale of him at the park with his little brother Sammy and how he seemed to fall and knock over everything on any available surface. Cas, as Dean had started to call him, let his head fall back and laughed. His whole face lit up and the crow's feet around his eyes crinkled, and Dean was lost for a minute over just how good he looked. Castiel's laugh was deep and contagious, and within seconds Dean found himself laughing along with him.

A pointed cough brought Dean back to his senses. Standing in front of them were two policemen, each with matching frowns of disapproval. Dean only minutely felt bad for laughing in a hospital before they addressed Castiel, getting a simple statement on what had occurred. Sobered, Dean frustrated glared at the policemen who hadn't even bothered to apologize for being five fucking hours late.

Dean sat back as they asked Cas the usual questions, nothing original to them. Castiel stammered out answers to the few things he knew, and Dean started to feel bad for the guy. The only reason he was even here was because he was the jackass who had to knock on his door to use the phone. It's not like he had anything whatsoever to do with the accident.

Finally, once the policemen had drilled Cas until they finally came to the mind-blowing conclusion that he truly knew nothing, they turned to Dean and called him up. Cas went back to the couch and crashed down onto it, quickly sinking into the thin cushions. Dean felt something oddly protective spark up in him then, and if he answered all the questions a bit more sarcastic and snarky then he should've then that had nothing to do with the fact that he felt like he owed it to the guy.

When they were done with him, Dean looked back at Cas who looked about two seconds from passing out and chewed on his lip nervously. Cas had driven them both to the hospital, and now Dean didn't really have a way of getting back. Glancing back at the clock, Dean saw that it was past midnight and fuck, he couldn't exactly call anyone to pick him up. Hating that he had to ask more from the guy, Dean cleared his throat and hesitantly asked Cas if he could drive him back to his house.

Cas looked up when he heard Dean addressing him again. Dean's face was blurred, and the corners of his vision were cycling in and out of tendrils of black. Trying to concentrate, Cas nodded dumbly and struggled to his feet. He tried to ignore the worried frown on Dean's face and led him out of the facility to his car. When he went to open the door, Cas tripped and pitched forward, almost face planting with the cement before Dean's arm wound around his waist, steadying him.

"Hey, you ok? Want me to drive?" Dean's voice warped and cracked through his ears. He didn't understand much of what Dean had said, just enough to sluggishly nod and head around to the other side of the car. Dean drove smoothly, and Castiel found himself flowing in and out of consciousness. Only when the car stopped did he look out of the window to see a darkened street they he had never seen before. Not fully remembering what was going on, cold dread seeped into his skin as he struggled to sit up. Right as he was about to launch into a full panic attack, Dean's voice broke through his terror fogged brain.

"Well, this is me. Sorry for all of this, really. It's all my fault. Is there anyway I can make it up to you?"

Castiel blinked as he tried to work around the words that were flung his way. He scrunched his brow and tried to remember what Dean had said, but just couldn't seem to make sense of any of the words. After a moment, Dean laughed, "You are so out of it man. Here- I'll give you my number. Call me tomorrow, ok?"

Dean handed Cas a scrap of paper then, and looked at Cas expectantly. He still wasn't quite sure what Dean was saying, but didn't have the energy to tell him otherwise. Still, Dean was looking at him like he expected an answer. Thinking that nodding was always the safest option, Castiel did, and watched as Dean smiled, and stepped out of the car. When he was halfway to his door, Dean turned around and called his name.

The single syllable pierced through his sleep-addled brain, and Castiel fumbled for the door handle before stepping out. It was all he could do not to crumble to the ground as his knees worked to keep from giving out beneath him. Cas swayed precariously and grabbed onto the hood of the car, trying to see through the haze of blackness the almost completely covered his vision. Squinting, Cas vaguely saw Dean run over to him and say something, before gravity finally won out and sent him to the floor. The unforgiving ground never hit him, though. His vision swam, and he felt strong arms wrap around him and support his weight. As if from a distance, or perhaps underwater, Cas head Dean say, "Hey, what's wrong dude? Hey! Look at me!" Struggling to comply, Cas lifted his eyes, looking for the source of the voice. After long, torturous seconds of searching, Cas landed on Dean's face. It was blurred and hardly distinguishable, but it was his.

Everything about Dean was dulled, swallowed by the blackness, expect for his eyes. Brilliant green, not diminished at all by the darkness around them, shown down on him, as if trying to read his soul. Cas tried to answer Dean, he really did. Tried to tell him not to worry, that he should just go inside; but the words got lost before he could even finished thinking them as he felt himself get dragged under. It felt as if a wool had been pulled over his eyes, or his feet knocked out from under him. The last thing he remembered was one syllable, one sound that sounded so simple and powerful being thrown over his consciousness.

_Cas!_

* * *

**Erm- so ya. Sorry for any mistakes! I'm going to go through it again tomorrow to look for any errors-**

**So... ya! Hoped you liked it! Please review! Your opinions are like- what I live for :)**

**~Magnolia**


	6. Foreign Tea and Black Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok! New chapter! Yay! Halleluyah! :)
> 
> Currently un-betad
> 
> (rating will change to M in later chapters)

* * *

**Foreign Tea and Black Coffee  
**

* * *

The incessant beeping of the machine was what did it. The squealing wheels of the hospital machines and beds that would occasionally roll past the room were one thing, as were the low murmurs. Those he could ignore, if he tried hard enough. But the shrill noise that was never ending- there's only so long he could ignore it and stay blissfully unaware of what was going on around him.

And it was because he was  _tired_. Even  _thinking_ was painful and draining. And besides, what did he have to get up for, anyway? It wasn't like there was anyone waiting to see him, anyone who cared. His job was replaceable, and it wasn't like there was anyone to miss him. All he had to look forward to was more quality time with Meg. So really, waking up was just another level of hell.

It was nice while it lasted. Each ping of the machine that was  _right next to his ear_  dragged him upwards. Slowly he began to feel his cramped muscles, the heaviness of each limb. None of that compared to his throat, though. It  _burned_. Slowly, he no longer was resisting the urge to wake up, but pushing- fighting his way out of sleep as the furnace in his throat grew. The effort to raise his eyelids was a long-battle well fought, but one that he inevitably lost. Eventually, Castiel gave up, and sunk into himself once again. Feeling even more tired than previous. He resigned himself to his immobility, and was washed away once more into darkness.

* * *

The second time he regained semblance of where he was, he was a little more aware. The infuriating machine was still there, as if its only purpose was to frustrate him and make him want to tear his hair out. After trying and failing to move, Cas decided he might as well take it out on the machine. He imagined a war scene, and being in the front lines. Shooting a gun, getting shot at. The bullet ripping and tearing its way through his leg. The burn.

As he imagined the scene, he felt with minute satisfaction a sort of smugness as the machine picked up speed, pinging more and more rapidly. Inwardly grinning, Castiel kept going. He was running, running and running as his leg burned and bled freely. Explosions went off behind him, and the stench of burning buildings and people filled his nose.

Each addition to the tale sent the machine into an even faster pace. Cas kept going with the story, inwardly celebrating his win over the machine. His fun was cut short, however, with the addition of what sounded like three or more frantic people running into the room. They all started talking loudly, and the sound flooded his ears and pounded into his skull. He grimanced, if only internally, and let go of the scene, settling back in the familiar blackness. Slowly, the machine's beeps evened out, and with it the level of the incomers volume. Relieved, Cas drifted- and once again was forced to remember the pain in his throat.

Every ounce of him wished to call out, to get them to turn and give him water. How could they not tell that he was dying? Because death was really the only explanation to what he felt like. Maybe that's why they weren't giving him water- because he was going to die anyway. He probably only had minutes left to live, hours, if it was going to be dragged out. As the fire licked its way down his throat, Cas fled to the recesses of his mind to escape it. The dark enveloped him like an old friend, and Cas graciously swaddled himself in it, effectively shutting out the pain.

* * *

The third time he surfaced, it was different. It  _felt_  different, anyway. This time, he could feel the thin hospital fabric on his skin, and he felt his chest rise and fall with each breathe. He still felt as weak as anything, but at least he felt at all. Now though, the burn in his chest wasn't even funny. It had turned into a deep bred itch, one that he felt all over, but couldn't scratch. Just the swallowing of his spit burned its way slowly down his throat. Cas groaned around the pain, and was surprised when the noise actually repeated itself in his ears, and not just his head.

Surprised that he actually gained control of his body again, Cas concentrated on opening his eyes. Slowly, and after a good amount of false starts, his eyelids lifted- and immediately accosted Cas's senses with bright burning light. Shying away from the light, Cas shut it out and rolled to the side slightly. After a few moments, Cas tried again, hesitantly. Slowly, Cas raised his eyes and adjusted to the unnatural whiteness around him to witness his surroundings.

When he spotted a cup of water on the side table, a few feet away from him, Cas almost cried with happiness. Instead, he laboriously stretched for the glass. The tips of his fingers reached it, and when he tried to stretch those few inches more, he hit the glass. It was with complete and utter frustration that he watched it tip over the edge of the table and hit the ground, spraying water everywhere.

The sound of the glass hitting the floor startled the man sitting in the chair, a man who Cas hadn't even noticed until he looked up. Their eyes locked, and they just stayed that way for a minute, neither moving. Only when Castiel collapsed back on the bed did Dean jump up and pick up the cup. For a few minutes, Cas just peered over the edge of the cot at Dean, scrunching his nose and considering.

"God Cas, bout time you woke up. I was starting to think it would never happen."

Castiel worked his tongue around his mouth, trying to get it to work with him. Finally, his voice hoarse and cracked, he said, "What happened?"

Looking up at him, Dean frowned. "I don't know. You just collapsed back at the car and had to drive you here. Jesus Cas, if I knew you were gonna collapse on me we could've saved ourselves the trip and just stayed here."

While Dean talked, Cas looked at Dean, really looked at him. His eyes, as green as ever, looked sunken in. When he finally convinced himself to not stay locked on the impossible green; he looked lower, seeing the dark circles that lined his eyes. Lower still, his jaw was lined with a 5 o'clock shadow. And… were those yesterday's clothes?

When Dean finished talking, Castiel just watched him for a minute, trying to figure out why he was there, why he was waiting for him. After drawing up blank, Cas opened his mouth, unsure. "You…stayed?"

Dean turned beat red and ducked his head, busing himself with picking up the water. For a minute, Cas started to think he was just not going to answer, until Dean started talking. "Cas- well, I didn't know what was happening! And you just collapsed- and I had to drive you back. And well- I was in your car! And I couldn't exactly just take it and drive off. It was only about 12 hours or so… Plus, I didn't know any of your relatives to call- so it wasn't like I could just leave you here alone. And-"

Dean continued on, talking as fast as possible. Cas couldn't help but sport a faint smile, nor could he help the light fluttering in his stomach. Before he could place whatever that was about, a doctor stepped through the door.

When Dean saw him, he immediately shut up and looked at him, expectantly.

"Well hello Mr… Novak. Nice to see you back with us. You gave us quite a scare, there."

"What happened?" Dean asked, stiffly.

The doctor's eyes flicked to Dean briefly before returning to Castiel.

"You seem to have suffered from an extreme case of sleep deprivation, malnutrition, and dehydration. We got you hooked up to an IV pretty quickly, and your vitals look okay, but I wouldn't try anything overly strenuous for the next couple of days. That being said, you check off on everything, so you're free to go when you feel up to it. We hope not to see you here again, Mr. Novak."

Castiel nodded solemnly, and the doctor left. When the door shut behind him, Dean looked at him, questions obviously bubbling behind the surface. "Hey Cas, What exactly-"

"I don't wish to talk about it, at present", Cas said, stiffly. He didn't want to talk about it; not now, not ever. Especially with this man who was actually talking to him. He already knew Cas was a freak, he didn't need to know the extent of it.

Dean blinked, "Ya sure, fine. Whenever you're ready." Dean paused for a minute, thinking about what he was going to say. "But, I do know how you can make it up to me. For you know, scaring the crap out of me."

Cas said nothing, but looked at him, intrigued. Dean took that as permission to continue. Swallowing thickly, Dean continued. "Well, I'm starving, and judging by what the doctor said, you are too. And there's this coffee shop about five minutes from here, if you wanna get coffee or…"

"I'm not overly fond of coffee."

"Oh." Dean looked down, suddenly very intrigued with his shoe laces.

"But-" Cas continued after a moment's hesitation, "I do happen to enjoy the selection of teas offered, if we are both referring to the same coffee shop."

Dean just stared at him for a moment, processing what he had said. "Yeah- tea works. No problem with tea. Awesome." If a grin spread across his face, then he had nothing to do with it. He was just… happy that the guy was ok, that's all. It had nothing to do with the fact that they were going to go to a café for brunch or anything.

Within the hour they were out the door, Dean keeping a careful eye on Cas as they walked to the car. When he made it there without any incident, Dean allowed himself to breathe a little easier.

He slid into the drivers seat, and only once Cas got in did he realize that this was Cas' car. "Oh, sorry dude. I never gave you back the keys. Here- if you want to drive we can just switch-"

"It's fine, Dean."

Nodding slightly embarrassed, Dean eased the car out of the parking lot and drove them to the café. They didn't talk, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. It was…nice. When they pulled up, both of them got out and walked into the café. The lighting was perfect, not to dark and awkward but also not to bright. It was perfect conversation lighting that also came with the feeling of being private.

They ordered, Dean and Cas respectively ordering a black coffee and Bai Hao White Oolong tea. They sat down, and when the waiter brought over their drinks, Dean couldn't help but jibe lightly at Cas' choice in beverage.

"Don't critique something you've never had, Dean. For the record, this tea is a mix of Taiwanese peaches mixed with jasmine and chili. It is quite appealing."

"They put chili powder in tea? Since when?"

"You can try it, if you like."

Dean stared at the mug apprehensively. Eventually, he decided he couldn't exactly back down from trying the mixture, so he took the mug in hand and carefully sipped. When the mix of flavors hit his tongue, he tried to suppress the appreciative moan threatening to escape.

"It- I guess it's ok."

Smiling slightly, Cas took back the cup and drank.

"I think so too."

They talked then, about random things. Dean made sure to steer clear of mentioning anything that had to do with the hospital, and simply kept it light. Before they even knew it, their waiter was back to take away their long-since empty mugs.

"Would you two like to share a slice of coffee cake?" She inquired, politely, looking back and forth between the two.

"Do you have pie?" Dean asked before fully registering all she implied.

"Of course, we are known for our cherry. I'll bring it out right away." She disappeared behind counter as Dean called out, "Wait- we aren't- oh forget it."

A few minutes later she returned, proudly putting the slice in between them along with two forks. "Enjoy", she said smiling. "Call me over if you guys need anything else."

"Right", Dean said, off hand. His mouth started watering the second he saw beautiful creation in front of him. Looking up, he noticed an expression of blank curiosity on Cas's face.

"What- dude, do you not like pie or something?"

"I… haven't had occasion to have any, no."

"You- haven't tried pie? Cas! It's one of the finer things in life! Come on- try some!" Dean scooped a healthy bite onto the fork and thrust it out towards Castiel's face. Seeing the look of slight hesitation, Dean wiggled the fork, "Come on man, it's good, trust me."

Cas accepted it then, and slowly chewed the food. The flavor burst over his tongue, filling his mouth with a sweet flavor.

"It's pleasant", Cas admitted, slowly.

"Damn right its pleasant", Dean said, grinning. He then reached for the other fork and dug in.

They talked further, discussing what they did for fun and the artists and bands they liked. At one point in the conversation, Dean glanced at his watch out of habit. When he noticed the time, however, he inwardly groaned.

"Oh shit. Hey Cas, could you drive me to the garage? I work there and I'm going to be late if I have to stop at my house. It's not far from here…"

"I'd be happy to", Cas interrupted, smoothly.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Dean got out of the car and leaned against the driver's side window.

"Hey Cas, this has been great. I don't go out much and this was… it was nice. Do you want to, I don't know, hang out again sometime?"

Cas smiled softly. It was nice, something he hadn't remembered doing in a while. "Of course."

Dean's smile grew. "Awesome. You still have my number?"

"I- don't recall ever getting it."

"Hey! All good! Here, give me yours. I'll call you later."

* * *

When Cas finally returned home, blissfully Meg free, he immediately dropped onto his bed. Never mind it was barely the middle of the day, he was tired. He fell asleep almost immediately. Into a blissfully dream free sleep.

A kind he couldn't say he had experienced in a while.

* * *

**So- what do you think? I'm not quite sure when I started writing Dean as an awkward lover puppy man, but alas, I did. Anyway- I am sunburned, depressed as hell that I couldn't go to A-kon, but relieved that I got this chapter out. Seriously- writer's block sucks :(**

**Hope you liked it! Please review!**

**~Magnolia**


	7. Unexpected Item in the Bagging Area

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's been a weird mix up in chapters... so I've deleted the wrong ones and here is the REAL chapter seven. Sorry about the mix up!

 

* * *

**Unexpected Item in the Bagging Area**

* * *

**Whatever this world can give to me**

**It's you you're all I see**

**Ooh you make me live now** **honey**

**Ooh you make me live**

* * *

 

It's funny, how fast days go by when you actually have something to look forward to; especially if that thing included hanging out with Dean.

The first time they met up again, it was rather by accident. Every two weeks or so, Castiel had to make the trip to go to the store. There were only so many non-perishables he could buy, and that left him going to the store to quickly grab milk, eggs, and a few vegetables. Every time he went, Castiel felt everyone's eyes on him. He  _hated_  having to walk down the aisles and squeeze past people; hated the stares as he hunched in on himself and kept to the walls as he navigated around the store. His hood was always pulled over his head- hey, if he couldn't see them, then maybe the rule applied both ways- maybe they couldn't see him, either.

He wished he believed it.

Instead, he just grasped at the thinning sleeves of his sweatshirt and quickly grabbed the essentials before heading over to the checkout line. Careful to keep his hood up, Castiel looked over the brim of the hood to see the lanes. It would be just his luck that there was only one cashier, and the line was fairly packed, there was no way he could stand waiting in that line.

It was with a sinking feeling in his gut did he realize that he was going to have to use the self-checkout. He loathed them, the machines. They were loud, difficult, and overall embarrassing. No matter what you did they wouldn't work with you. But at the moment he wasn't given much choice, so he resolutely set his items on the side and got ready to work hells-gadget. Slowly, with overdone precision, he was sure, he scanned each of the items and bagged them one at a time. Slowly. Meticulously. Each one went in without a hitch, and Cas allowed himself to breathe a bit as he finished with most of the items. Of course it was at that moment though, when it felt like everything went to hell.

"I'm sorry, unexpected item in the bagging area."

He didn't do anything

"Unexpected item in the bagging area."

He hadn't touched anything

"Please removed the unexpected item from the bagging area before continuing."

"I- I didn't"

"Please wait for a store employee of manager before continuing your checkout"

Groaning, Cas let his head fall forward and rested his hands on the machine, resisting the urge to just walk out of punch the machine. It was 50/50, at this point.

"Mr; We don't really take nicely to you abusing our machines."

Cas whirled around, voice catching in his throat just as he was bursting to defend himself. "No! No I didn't do anything! I- Dean?"

Castiel couldn't tell which was more shocking; the fact that Dean Winchester was once again standing in front of him or the fact that he was wearing a store shirt with a little name tag reading 'Hello, My name is Adam."

Dean just rocked back on his heels. "Oh, sorry sir, you must have me confused for someone else. My name's Adam. See?" Dean vary obviously tapped at the name tag several times, not without adding in an over the top winking display- of course.

"Er…"

"Hey! These machines are getting old anyway, not the easiest to work with. Here, let me just-"

Dean leaned over him them, and slowly typed in some master password. If his eyes glued to the stretch of his shirt over his taunt stomach, it was just an accident. A really,  _really_  unfortunate accident…

"There! Should let you finish bagging then, Cas. Shit! I mean er, sir."

Still not quite sure what game Dean was playing at, Cas once again went to bag the apples after punching in the code.

"I'm sorry, unexpected item in the bagging area."

Cas just glared at the machine. It was the one who declared war, not him. He was done being civil. What the hell did he do to it? He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, trying to keep from all out making a scene.

"Dude! Stop death-glaring the machine. You might fry the main frame."

"That's the objective." Cas said, glowering.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Here- let me do it."

"No! It's fine, it's just checking out a couple apples. I can do it."

"Calm down soldier, this is one battle you can't win. Sheesh, surrender now and come back to fight another day. There's a line forming, you can defend your honor later."

A deep blush spread from his ears all the way down his neck. Castiel ducked his head and shifted to the side and tried his best to ignore Dean's chuckle.

"…And there you go. One rogue bag of apples bagged and ready to face the courts. Should I read them their rights?"

"Uh. Dean?"

"Adam."

"Right, Adam, that reference- I'm not quite sure what you were trying to say."

The look of shock on his face was funny enough without Dean practically chocking on his own spit. Not knowing whether to be offended by Dean's reaction or not, Cas chose to be neither and just stand by and wait for Dean to get over… _whatever_  he was going through h.

"Aww Cas buddy, you are so stuck in the wrong century. Here, I'm not doing my job, and I'm pretty sure the lady in line behind you is about to pop a gasket, so- I got these, let's go to your car."

As Dean talked, he grabbed two of the bags and stared expectantly and Cas, almost as if he were daring him to say something.

"I didn't drive here-"

"Yes you did. Let's go"

Dean practically dragged Castiel out of the store, only stopping when they made it around the corner.

"Dean- I honestly don't have my car here. My apartment was only a block away, I-"

"That's not the point, Cas- I needed an excuse to come outside. The employer's a hardasses, man. I haven't gotten a break yet!"

"Dean- you don't work here."

"Dude, when you see a man in uniform, you don't question it."

Castiel shifted on his feet and just stared up at Dean, choosing to ignore his response. When Dean noticed the shift in Castiel's stance, he raised his eyebrows and stared back, not giving an inch. After a good 3 years, (or fine, more like 20 seconds. It sure felt like three years. The intensity of his eyes caused Dean to drown, burn up, dissolve, and/or loose himself in what felt like an irreparable way) Dean huffed out a laugh and relaxed his stance. Taking that as a sign that Dean would actually start getting serious, Castiel turned back to his question.

"Who even  _is_  Adam?"

"Oh yeah," Dean's smile grew wider, "He's my brother. Well; half-brother. He goes to high school around here and bailed to go study for some test or something. Somehow or other he convinced me to cover his shift."

"I never knew you were one to volunteer your time."

"Hey! I'm a total boy scout! Bought their popcorn once and everything."

"You're very odd, Dean Winchester."

"Says the guy whose ass was handed to him by a checkout machine."

"That…is not of import."

" _Sure_  it's not.

"Don't you have work to be doing, Adam?"

"Woah there, Cas! Do I sense a bit of hostility?"

"You sense nothing."

Dean loved this, the banter. He hadn't been able to do so in such a long time with anyone, and it felt nice to finally be able to trade subtle jibes and comments. He hadn't done it since he still lived with Sammy, and it had been a good five years since the kid up and moved to California.

Dean was thrown back into reality when he realized how close they were standing together. He could count his eyelashes, if he wanted to- and oh god he wanted to…

"Winchester! Please refrain from socializing during  _work_  hours. If you're done here, I'd appreciate it if you would preformed your assigned duties."

"Fuck," Dean whispered under his breath, "Yes, Mr. Adler. I'll be there."

"As expected."

Mr. Adler went back in the building, and Dean let out and audible groan. "Adam better be lucky I don't want that kid fired. I swear, if I have to look at the leer on his stupid face one more time…"

"I can imagine, " Cas smiled, "but you can save that speech for a later date, if you're serious about not wanting to get him fired, that is."

Dean cracked a small smile, "I'll hold you to that."

"I'll look forward to it."

Cas backed up, and started walking down the street before turning back, "Goodbye, Adam."

Cas heard a quite snort coming from behind him, "Have a good evening,  _sir_. Hope you found everything to your satisfaction."

' _I think I did_ ,' Cas thought, shyly.

The walk home wasn't nearly as eventful.

* * *

Dean followed through on his promise to finish his rant, it turned out. And one rant led to a lengthy discussion over the benefits of prime time television which led to having to relocate to a restaurant to finish up their conversation.

One day out led to two, then to three. Shortly, Cas found himself going out of the house to meet up with Dean two to three times a week. He still found the whole thing extremely surreal. He didn't even feel like the same person when he was with Dean. He felt like someone…lighter.

He found himself replacing many of the feeble items in his wardrobe with new ones. He took a particular liking to pristine button up shirts, as well as dark jeans. Slowly, Cas built up a life for himself. Each renovation was slow, as well as painful, but he was improving.

And he was happy.

* * *

**Do you know what frustrated me? The fact that this was supposed to be literally no more then one page. I had planned to have soooo much more happen in this chapter, but then I find myself 5 pages in and still on the first bulletin on my outline and that kids- was the moment I realized I was screwed. Like, what was supposed to be chapter 7 is now gonna be chapters 7, 8, and 9... Anyway- hoped you liked this fluffy chapter! (you're gonna need it very soon)**

**Anyway- See you next week! And I hope to hear what you think so far :)**

**(Song: You're My Best Friend- Queen)**

**~Magnolia**


	8. All About Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the short chpt!

* * *

**All About Us**

* * *

**Take my hand, I'll teach you to dance.**   
**I'll spin you around, won't let you fall down.**   
**Would you let me lead? You can step on my feet.**   
**Give it a try, it'll be alright**

**The room's hush hush and now's our moment.**   
**Take it in, feel it all and hold it**   
**Eyes on you, eyes on me.**   
**We're doing this right.**

**'Cause lovers dance when they're feeling in love**   
**Spotlight's shining. It's all about us**   
**And every heart in the room will melt**   
**This is a feeling I've never felt**   
**But it's all about us**

**Suddenly I'm feeling brave**   
**Don't know what's got into me**   
**Why I feel this way**   
**Can we dance real slow?**   
**Can I hold you real close?**

**Do you hear that love? They're playing our song**   
**Do you think we're ready? Oh, I'm really feeling it**   
**Do you hear that love? Do you hear that love?**

* * *

They developed a form of routine. Every morning before work Dean would swing by and go over to Cas' and make coffee. At first they had started meeting up because, "…the coffee at work is fucking disgusting. It's not even coffee. It's shit flavored water." In which Cas' helpfully commented on his "industrial style coffee and espresso machine" that his brother had gotten him for Christmas a few years back that he never got around to throwing out.

Dean started showing up every morning quickly after that.

Some mornings Cas would be at the door to let him in within seconds, bright eyed and gleaming. Others, it would take a lot longer; twenty rings of the bell, fifty knocks, and the threat of him kicking down the door to get Cas to come to the door.

The first few times Dean was faced by the cold fortifying silence of the closed door, he panicked. He wasn't an idiot. He knew Cas was in therapy and he knew he still wasn't one hundred percent. He was more than well aware, being in there himself, the types of people that needed to go. He wasn't going to ask Cas why he had to just yet, it wasn't right. He had just gotten him to trust that Dean was a friend, that he could see past his disease. The last thing Dean needed was for Cas to think he was putting him in a box- only out to catalog what his issue was and then treat him different.

He was going to have to wait for Cas to tell him on that one, and if it meant waiting months; years- he would. Him doing anything else would fracture the crystalline structure of their comrade in ways that would be almost irreparable.

The main downside to this was not knowing what was going on. Right then, with the cold bite of the door in front of him unyielding- Dean didn't know what to do. Cas could be like, lying dead on the ground for all he knew. When Cas finally came to the door covered in a cold sweat but there Dean just stepped in and hugged him, doing his best to calm the race of his heart against the equally paced one of Cas'.

As weeks went on though, and it happened more than once, Dean just felt resigned- sometimes even talking to the door for half an hour, confident that Cas was on the other side. He felt slightly ridiculous and self conscious, sure- especially when people would walk by and just give him one of their  _looks_.

Sometimes, a guy would walk past and see him talking to the door and give him one of their signature, "Oh you fucked up sorry mate I'd really hate to be you right now" type of reassuring glances before continuing on their way. It was frustrating, but the overwhelming sense of relief when Cas answered the door with awe as if he was surprised that he was there made every second worth it.

Over time, it got better. Less and less was he left outside. Although it still happened time to time, he was okay with that. He didn't expect to be able to make everything just go away.

It didn't hit him just how domestic they had gotten until Cas gave him a copy of the house key, muttering something about how he was over enough anyways so he might as well let himself in.

That made things infinitely easier. He would slip in without having to wake Cas and make the himself a cup of coffee and Cas one of his favorite blends of tea. On days when Cas was just… out of it, Dean would coax him out of bed with talk of plans for the day or the smell of drinks. He would get Cas to shower, and on some days if that's all the Cas accomplished he was more than proud. Because he got it.

They started doing this too. Dean only worked from eight to noon on Thursdays at the garage, so he would swing by and pick Cas up to go to their favorite café. Within a month Dean had tasted at least fifty different types of tea, and for someone who was previously under the impression that there were only two different types max, he counted it as a major achievement. He was surprised to find he even liked a good many of them, too.

One night, after spending the day 'educating Cas as to the wonders of Star Wars', Dean looked over to Cas and was overwhelmed by the rush of warmth that spilled over into his gut. He was  _happy_. Sitting on Cas' faded couch wrapped in a blanket while he gave running commentary on everything that was going on was easy. It was nice. And it was home.

Feeling the house key burning in his pocket, Dean only hesitated for a moment before reaching around his neck and pulling off his necklace.

"Hey Cas."

His eyes flashed up to him then, heavy lidded with exhaustion but glistening with a form of sated mirth.

"Umm.. I want you to have this. My brother gave it to me when I was little, and I think I've had it for forever. I just… I want you to wear it. If you want, that is."

Cas sat up then, suddenly more awake then he was a minute ago. He reached out and took the amulet gingerly, awe clearly etched across his feature.

"Dean…I can't accept this. I don't- I know how much this means to you. I can't possibly-"

Grinning, Dean leaned over and playfully nudged him on the shoulder.

"Then I take it back. You can't keep it."

Dean felt slightly bad when he saw Cas' face fall slightly, but powered on anyways.

"But I will let you borrow it. Guess it means I'll just have to come back and collect it later."

Dean could tell then, that Cas understood. That he knew it meant that Dean wasn't going anywhere. That he was here. His own little house key, if you will.

Their own pledges of commitment.

* * *

**Ack! So there! Hope you liked it. It was pure fluff but hey- it needs to be done. Let me know what you think!**

**Read x Review**

**~Magnolia**


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

**Hey Jude**

* * *

I have heard it said so many times, "Love is blind"  
So why are you staring?  
You say that love is all we need, well  
Does that apply to me?  
'Cause I have found someone  
That I think is beautiful  
And I have fallen in love  
And I'm telling you  
She means everything to me  
She makes me feel nothing else matters  
Not even what the world thinks of me

* * *

Days went on, bringing with it the heat of summer. Little changed little around the two, except for what did. The two grew closer and closer, not just in comfort but in contact. A small brush of the fingers against the back of a hand or nape of the neck. The gentle hand on a shoulder to get the others' attention, or the heavy weight of an arm around the others' shoulder.

Towards the middle of summer, Cas came back from the grocery store to find Dean sprawled on his couch drenched in sweat. Cas sighed, inwardly cringing at the thought of having to scrub the couch clean  _again_ , went over to the counter and grabbed the spray bottle. Dean sagged on the couch, unaware or uncaring of his presence in the room. Annoyed, Cas walked over to Dean and spritzed him in the face several times before jumping back and making his way back to the kitchen to finish unpacking, smiling widely at the man spluttering indignantly behind him.

"Cas!What the hell man?! I'm an innocent!?" Dean yelled over to him, not moving an inch.

Shuffling around in the kitchen, Cas smiled warmly. Not bothering to turn around, Cas shouted back to the man on the couch.

"You're going to be the one scrubbing your sweat off the couch this time, Dean." Before he could get around to voicing his complaint, Cas continued, "or you'll be bumming on someone else's couch."

"I'm not bumming! I'm…nesting. Or something. You don't have a right to talk, man. I'm the one who just ran a fucking marathon. I don't see you doing anything productive."

"Like making sure we don't starve? And Dean… you  _do_ realize you just ran around the block…right? Though with the amount of sweat pouring out of you one would think it been that long."

Tchking from his spot on the couch, Dean waited until Cas turned around to face him before dramatically wiping his forehead on the back of his hand and flicking the droplets in Cas' direction.

Cas stared at the spot on his carpet where the drops would have landed; disgust and panic racking up his spine. As if on autopilot, Cas went over to the sink and grabbed a towel. As quickly and controlled as he could manage, he went over to the spot on the floor and started scrubbing fervently.

Blood pounded in his ears, and the scratchy fibers of his carpet rubbed raw into his hands. Gritting his teeth, he pushed the rag back and forth back and forth, needing to get the sweat out. It was impure, diseased.

_"A stain on the whole family! Unpure! Filthy! Garbage! Get clean or get out! Get out or I'll make you!"_

And then there were hands, strong firm hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him back. As if through a veil he heard his voice, calmly saying something over and over. He couldn't hear the words; but they were there, grounding him. Cas let his head rest against the man behind him.

"Hey, hey. Calm down."

Dean is steady, his face concerned as his calloused hands gripped his forearms. Cas clawed at him, needing to get away. Feeling the disease seep from Dean's shirt into his skull, his skin. Cas clawed at him desperately, begging without words for him to let go. To release him. He caught Dean's eyebrow with his blunt nails, causing red to well up in thin lines on the side of his face. Dean didn't even flinch, just ran his dirty filthy hands up and down his arms in a repetitive pattern, trapping him and soaking  _vile_  into his skin.

Recoiling faster than he thought possible, Cas all but flew over to the sink, turning the faucet on high and waiting for the stream to heat up.

Distantly, he heard a, "Fuck! Cas I'm sorry. I'll- I'll jump in the shower. Give me five minutes, ok man? Calm down and… just wait two seconds." Before the sounds of someone scrambling to their feet echoed down the hallway. Cas vaguely registered the shower bursting in to like as he turned back to the faucet in front of him.

Thick steam rolled off the water in waves, and it was with relief that he pushed his arms into the burning water. It scalded his palms, and he scrubbed his fingers and arms until the skin had turned an angry red.

Turning quickly, Cas pushed the back of this head under the spray, doing his best at the awkward angle to try and get it all  _out_.

It burned. The water pounded down onto his skin, sending tendrils of fire through his skull. It hurt. Slowly, oh so slowly, Cas let the knowledge that he was cleaner, purer relax his muscles and calm his racing heart. He stayed under the spray until it turned look warm, doing little but soaking in to the back of his shirt.

He straightened up, feeling the crick in his back from arching over the hard counter top so awkwardly.

In a daze, Cas went back to his room and pulled on a new pair of clothes. It was only when he was fully clean did he relax, drooping onto the edge of his bed.

A few minutes later, the shower head turned off, signaling to Cas that he had about two minutes before Dean would come out. He hunched in on himself, over come with shame. He had no idea what Dean would think of him now, after seeing…that. He probably thought he was crazy; was probably going to come out of the shower and head directly for the door, not looking back once except to say "never talk to me again."

Sooner than he'd hoped, the door to the bathroom swung open. Cas let his head fall, not wanting to look at him and have to see the disgust on his face. Without his sight, he strained to listen, trying to gauge what was happening outside.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, getting softer as they went the other way. A gut wrenching twist pulled at his chest, and Cas sat on the bed, paralyzed.

Several minutes later, just as he was about to let himself just fall back on the sheets and fall asleep, he heard shuffling once more. Sitting up straighter, Cas' heartbeat went through the roof, increasing in pace as the steps got louder as they neared his room. Clenching his eyes shut, Cas tensed himself, waiting for the words to come. There was nothing, silence. Nobody moved, nobody breathed. And then, slowly, Dean exhaled and walked into the room. A warm body pressed in next to him and slung an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in. Still not opening his eyes, Cas went with the movement and buried his face in Dean's shoulder, feeling heated skin beneath his own. And then slowly, quietly, Dean started to sing.

_Hey Jude, don't make it bad_   
_Take a sad song and make it better_   
_Remember to let her into your heart_   
_Then you can start to make it better_

Cas' breath hitched, but Dean continued, eyes closed.

_Hey Jude, don't be afraid_   
_You were made to go out and get her_   
_The minute you let her under your skin_   
_Then you begin to make it better_

Slowly, he relaxed into Dean's grip, fitting himself more firmly against the solid form of him.

_And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain_   
_Don't carry the world upon your shoulders_   
_For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool_   
_By making his world a little colder_

Measuring his breaths, Cas breathed slowly in and out, focusing on the rise and fall of Dean's voice.

_Hey Jude, don't let me down_   
_You have found her, now go and get her_   
_Remember to let her into your heart_   
_Then you can start to make it better_

Dean shifted his arms, fitting them more securely around Cas. As the melody went on, he buried his fingers in Cas' hair, playing with the strands as he continued.

_So let it out and let it in, hey Jude, begin_   
_You're waiting for someone to perform with_   
_And don't you know that it's just you, hey Jude, you'll do_   
_The movement you need is on your shoulder_

He slowed down, nearing the end of the song. As the lyrics washed over him, he found his voice unconsciously growing softer, more intimate.

_Hey Jude, don't make it bad_   
_Take a sad song and make it better_   
_Remember to let her under your skin_   
_Then you'll begin to make it_   
_Better better better better better better, oh_

They sat together on the bed for an eternity just breathing and  _being_. It wasn't until Dean shifted uncomfortably that Cas pulled back, and noticed for the first time that Dean wasn't wearing anything more than a towel.

Noticing his stare, Dean looked down at himself and reddened. "Uh ya. Could I borrow some clothes for a bit? I didn't bring anything over and I don't think getting back into my running clothes would be the best idea." Dean said, running his hand through his hair.

"O- Of course, Cas stuttered out, doing his best to tame the blush that was almost certainly spreading from his ears to face and neck.

"Here. Let me-" Cas scrambled over to the other corner of his room, flustered. After pulling out his loosest articles, he threw a pair of boxers, sweats, and college shirt and Dean before gesturing vaguely at the door.

"I'll just… be in the living room then."

Stepping out and shutting the door behind him, Cas went over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water.

Several minutes later, Dean emerged from his room. The sweats hung low on his hips, dipping down just far enough that..

Cas jerked his head up, trying to focus on something else. The view wasn't much safer higher up however. The shirt, which had fit loosely on himself, stretched tight on Dean's broader shoulders, filling out nicely.

Seemingly not noticing Cas' very obvious once over, Dean went over to the couch and settled on it once more. Looking over his shoulder, he signaled with his head for Cas to come over. Noticing his obvious discomfort with the idea, Dean's eyes softened.

"It's ok Cas. I already sanitized the thing. It's as clean as it ever has been."

Gratitude washed over him, and it was with a small smile that he went over to Dean and settled on the couch at his side.

"So," Dean said, conversationally. "What is your stance on Indiana Jones?"

 


	10. The Boy Saw A Comet

 

* * *

**The Boy Saw A Comet**

* * *

The boy saw the comet and he felt as though his life had meaning.

And when it went away, he waited his entire life for it to come back to him.

It was more than just a comet because of what it brought to his life: direction, beauty, meaning.

There are many who couldn't understand, and sometimes he walked among them.

But even in his darkest hours, he knew in his heart that someday it would return to him, and his world would be whole again...

And his belief in God and love and art would be re-awakened in his heart.

* * *

Cas settled down on the sofa, grateful for the gesture but not fully sure why Dean was acting so…normal. Sitting on the other side from Dean, Cas leaned against the arm rest, breathing out slowly. He shut his eyes for a moment, almost unbelieving in his luck that Dean was still here- still in his house. He can't remember what it was like to have someone around who he could rely on- and he almost didn't know what to do with the information.

"Hey Cas, look at me." Dean spoke, softly.

Lifting his head, Cas turned to face Dean, searching his features for an explanation, for an answer to why he was still here. Nothing made sense; not the crinkle in his brow, the upturned twist of his lips, nor the mirth glittering in his eyes. Cas studied his face, eyes flicking back and forth between each feature, trying to see what it was about this man that made his different. Special.

What about Dean that made Cas different. Special.

Eyes growing fond, Dean chuckled and reached over, fluffing Cas' hair. "You're not over thinking anything are you?"

Rolling with the movement, Cas leaned into his hand and shuffled over slightly, burying his face in Dean's shoulder. Smashing his face into the muscle, Cas let out a muffled hum as a response.

"I'm not leaving, you know. You still have my necklace."

Cas blindly reached down and pulled the leather pendant out from other his shirt and held it loosely in his fist. Stroking the figurine with the pads of fingers, Cas smiled softly before tucking it under his collar, loving the weight of the metal against his breast bone.

Sitting up to face Dean, Cas shyly hedged.

"I don't plan on giving it back for a while."

Grinning wider, Dean shifted on the couch until he found the remote. He fiddled with it it for a bit, before looking over at Cas once more.

"Don't think I'd let you if you tried."

* * *

Dean had Cas start with the first one; because, "You have to pay respects to the classics, Cas." And after that they slowly transitioned into the second and third film.

Sometime around eleven Deans phone rang, beeping shrilly into the otherwise quiet and tense atmosphere of the room, provided by the high-stakes segment. Cas went rigid at the noise, and Dean let out an undignified squeak that he wouldn't admit under gunpoint to ever making.

After fumbling with the phone for a minute, Dean pulled it to his ear.

"Hello" Dean called, refusing to look at Cas and trying to fight down the embarrassment that was currently rising into his cheeks. ""Sammy!" Dean grinned widely.

Cas reached around Dean to try and grab the remote. It took longer than he would have thought possible to find the plastic rectangle, but each passing second that he most definitely did  _not_ find the remote was about a year in awkward time, because he was  _well_  aware that he was  
hovering directly over Dean's lap in a way that would almost definitely look like it was on purpose. When his fingers finally closed around the device, (it had slipped into the crevice, the fucker) Cas almost let out a sigh of relief, straightening up quickly and pausing the scene so Dean could talk to his brother.

Dean shot him grateful glance and went back to listening to the other end of the line.

"Hey! You're done with exams now, right?... …. ..Jesus, how are you even awake right now?…. … … Do I need to schedule you to get your blood pressure checked?"

Cas snickered next to him. When Dean looked at him with an offended glance, Cas burst out laughing.

"Shut up! …. No not you. This asshole over here. Fucking judging me for making sure you don't die…. … … Not you too Sam! You can't both turn on me like this!... … Yes I have every right to worry about you dropping dead due to all that caffeine you've been injecting… .. Because I'm older ok! I have thicker blood! … … Whatever bitch. See if I care when I get the call at three in the morning. I'll just fucking laugh at the operator and tell them to dump your body wherever's convenient."

Cas zoned out of the conversation a bit, feeling slightly awkward for listening in on something that clearly wasn't meant for him to hear. Soon though, even he had to admit he was lying to himself when some of the conversation stated piquing his interest.

"Oh really? You're coming down here, man!... No that's cool!... … Do you need me to pick you up? … …That's my boy. Planes are fucking overrated… … … Just come in, you still have a key don't you?"

Cas heard a muffled voice on the other end of the line. Whatever he said, caused Dean to get a sharp gleam in his eye. Glancing over at Cas, Dean wore a shit eating grin, and continued to speak into the phone.

"Just come in when you get here. Don't bother calling- I would doubt my ability to pick up anyway. I got a hot date tonight, if you know what I mean." Dean said, leaning over and winking lavishly, mere inches from Cas.

With Dean that close, Cas was able to hear Sam's tinny response of, "Oh gross, dude. I did not need to know that." Before flushing scarlet and poking Dean in the side. Hard.

"Ow! Jeez Cas-… Oh- uh. You know it. This one's feisty." Dean leered, actively doing his best to avoid Cas' controlled jabs into every single one of his pressure points.

"Yah Sam, I think I got to go. Things are getting a little hot under the collar over here, and I think that…" Dean only narrowly avoided a jab to the neck "things are going to start flying pretty fast."

Cas huffed, moving in closer to smash his hand over Dean's mouth to keep him from talking anymore.

"Aaugh! Do NOT have phone sex with me still on the line! Uug! Goodbye jerk. See you tomorrow. You better be showered. Oh my gosh you suck. Bye." Cas heard, before the phone went dead.

"You asshole." Cas glowered, each work punctuated with a stab to the ribs. Dean barely acknowledged his words in favor of howling with laughter, even going so far as to exaggeratedly wipe a tear from his eye.

"You face.." Dean wheezed, "was priceless."

Grumbling to himself a bit longer, Cas resettled on the couch and pressed play, stonily avoiding Dean and giving him the silent treatment.

His act was quickly brought to an ends when Dean reached over and assaulted him, grabbing his shoulders and dragging him down into and expertly running his hands up and down Cas' sides, startling a painful laugh from him.

Deans fingers danced delicately over his stomach, flying back and forth over his compromised sides. He didn't stop until Cas was a crying heap of a man in front of him, begging for him to stop.

"I'll only stop if _you_  promise to stop avoiding me." Dean said, in between his continued attack and best efforts to avoid Cas' flailing limbs.

"Ok ok ok! I'll stop! I'll- Jeez stop! I said I'll stop! Dean please! I'm done! Dean!"

Finally, after running his hands over Cas sides a few more times, Dean halted his advance.

Drawing in deep breaths, Cas relaxed bonelessly against Dean's leg, feeling his weight sag into the couch. Exhausted, he looked up and shot Dean with a mournful glare.

"I hate you."

"No you don't." Dean said cheerily, "I'm adorable."

Snorting, Cas rotated until he was facing the screen and in a comfortable position against Dean's leg.

Neither seemed to notice that half the movie had gone by.

By the time they reached the fourth film, Cas was lightly dozing on Dean's thigh, only waking up periodically on the particularly loud parts. When he did, Cas would startled slightly, and move a numb arm up to his mouth to surreptitiously checking for drool.

When Dean would notice Cas would move, he would huff a burst of warm air out through his smiling lips and scrunch the hair his hand was resting in. After several moments of blinking owlishly, Cas would lay his head back down and try to follow the film.

Before a whole minute was up, Cas was back asleep.

* * *

Dean awoke slowly, resting in a comfortable haze of warmth . Sometime in the night they had shifted with Dean laying on his back and Cas plastered to his front, sweaty limbs laced together. Smiling to himself, Dean took a moment to look at the sleeping man on top of him. He was frowning softly in his sleep, brow puckered slightly with his left cheek smashed into his stomach. He looked, frankly, adorable.

Set to take a picture, Dean maneuvered his hand into his flattened jean pocket and fished out his phone. When he turned on the screen, Dean saw the time and cursed. Stumbling out from under Cas, Dean hopped around the room, trying to gather all of his stuff.

When he heard Cas wake up on the couch, Dean cursed again. "Hey sorry. Didn't set an alarm last night and it's eleven! Sam was supposed to show up at my house an hour ago! Shit- I got to go. I'll stop by later, Cas. Ah-fuck shit... MOTHER FUCKER!"

Dean stumbled around the room, tripping over someone's shoes and crashing painfully into the wall. Squinting through the pain, Dean hopped around clutching his shoulder and a handful of clothes before launching himself out the door.

Dean ran to his car and collapsed into the driver's seat minus one shoe, his socks, and half of his belongings. Electing to just stop by later to grab everything, Dean threw the car into reverse and tore out of the driveway and to his apartment, chugging some flat soda left in the cup holder from who knows when to try and mask his breath.

Back in the house, Cas blinked up groggily, thrown from one of the most comfortable sleeps he's had in… forever, by Dean slamming into the wall and yelling at the top of his lungs. Sighing, Cas looked around the room, bundles of clothes and popcorn bags littering the floor.

He sat up and stretched, letting out a sign of relief when his back popped loudly. Relaxing against the cushions, Cas stood up slowly and made his way into the kitchen.

He made Bobba tea, and after draining half the glass he slowly wandered back into the living room. He set about picking up all the trash that was strewn across the floor. He took out a bag and gathered up all the clothes that Dean left behind; his running clothes, socks, and boxers, and threw them into a bag.

Deciding that he might as well drop them off at Dean's, Cas put on one of his oxfords sweaters, it was still slightly chilly outside, and headed out.

When Cas knocked on the door, a tree of a man answered the door. He tensed the second in registered that this was  _not Dean_ , but quickly relaxed when he recognized his face from pictures Dean kept in his wallet.

"Sam."

"Uh hi. Do I know you?"

Smiling softly, Cas spoke. "I wouldn't think so. Your brother left these at my house." Cas said, gesturing to the bag of clothes in his arms, "I assumed he would want them back. I would have washed them for him, but I don't have a washing machine." Cas said, holding out the bag to Sam.

Sam stared at the contents of the bag for a moment before looking up at the man in front of him.

"Oh! You're…he- Dean was over yours last night?"

"Yes." Cas affirmed, " And he forgot his clothes when he left this morning. Oh, and just tell him to bring mine over whenever he comes around again."

Y- yours?" Sam stuttered, trying to keep up with information that he was  _not_  ready to hear.

"Mmhm. His were soiled so I offered him mine to wear."

Sam's eyebrows nearly reached his hairline, completely unprepared for what the man in front of him was saying. Shocked at this new development that Dean certainly had  _not_ told him about, Sam fought to keep his brain from short circuiting.

"Oh ya. Sure. Right Sorry. Here- let me just get. Uh- Dean! Your-"

Sam fought back a smirk, "'hot date' is here. Something you've been meaning to tell me Dean? Seems like some of your clothes got left behind in the…er… fray."

Before he could correct Sam, Cas heard loud footsteps echo in the depths of the apartment. Within seconds, Dean's head popped up behind the door.

His glance went back and forth between Cas, Sam, and the bag of clothes, before turning beet red.

"What? Sam no! Gross! We're not- Dude you know me. It's not like that! I don't swing that way! No- he's nobody, man. He's-"

Cas felt like he'd been slapped.

Hard.

Swallowing thickly, Cas quickly did his best to keep his features from shattering and interrupted him, not able to bear anymore.

"He's correct Sam. I'm not particularly anyone. Dean was visiting my… sister last night. She just was at work and asked me to bring over his clothes." Cas said, as straight faced as possible, before reaching around his neck and shoving something into the bag with the rest of the clothes. "Which I did, so…. I'm going to go now, if that's alright with you two." Cas stammered- doing his best to keep from chocking up.

Without waiting for a response, Cas turned and walked away as quickly as possible, not daring to look back.

The whole way back was slightly surreal, Cas doing his best to not think about what Dean had just said.

_Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody Nobody…_

When he finally made it back to his house, Cas turned around and locked the door and checked all the windows and blinds to make sure they were shut. He felt like he was shredding, and with each latch tied down he felt a bit safer. More secured.

Finally, once the house was dark except for the little sunlight able to trickle in around the blinds, Cas turned around and slumped against the wall, doing his best to control his breathing.

_Relax. It's ok. He didn't mean it_

"Oh I'm sure he did!"

Cas froze, terrified. Looking up slowly, Cas shrank into the wall, doing his best to shy away from the feminine figure standing in the middle of the hallway.

"Hello, Clarence. It's about time for a house call, no?"

..

..

..

..

..

..

"Don't worry babe, you're special to me"

_Slice_

_Rip_

_Tear_

"You're my unicorn."

_Squelch_

_Yell_

_Laugh_

"I love you, you know that?"

_Yank_

_Twist_

_Pull_

"I'd never call you nothing

_Stroke_

_Sooth_

_Kiss_

"You're everything to me"

_Lick_

_Suck_

_Bite_

"My own little broken angel"

_Whimper_

_Gag_

_Retch_

"Will you be good for me, doll?"

_Crack_

_Break_

_Press_

"You know I love it when you're vocal"

_Touch_

_Scream_

_Smile_

"That's it. My little angel. All mine."

_Sob_

_Choke_

_Vomit_

"Where would I be without you?"

_Gasp_

"You're my angel"

_Cry_

"My everything"

_Shout_

"Never nothing"

_Gurgle_

"Never lie to you, babe"

_Hyperventilate_

Never

" _No!"_

I love you too much

" _Don't! Please-"_

"Don't you love me, too?"

_Silence_

* * *

Dean stuttered to a halt when he saw Cas' face fall, if only for a second. Before he could backtrack- Cas was stuffing something in the bag and throwing it in his face before turning and walking briskly away.

Everything in him called to go after Cas, but with Sam looking shell shocked next to him, there was no way Dean could get away without doing damage control.

The door closed quietly behind him, and the two brothers stood in uncomfortable silence before Sam exhaled softly. Cringing, Dean knew what was about to come.

"Do we… need to talk about something Dean?"

"Sam-"

"-Because I hope you know that it's ok. If you are, right? I'm not Dad-"

"Sam! Stop. I'm not- alright? Jeez, stop giving me the third degree. I'm not in the mood for a sleep over, Samantha." Dean huffed, before quickly escaping into the kitchen to nurse a beer.

The uncomfortable twinge of the lie burned hot in his chest, but there was little he could do to take it back now. He was so used to it… this denying, that the thought of trying to explain his sexuality to his family, albeit Sam, brought back to many memories.

Gloomily, Dean took a swig of his beer.

_Shit. Looks like I'll need to visit Bobby again soon_

A few hours after Cas had stopped over, he deemed that enough time had passed for him to leave the house without being obvious. The longer he waited, the more agitated he got- escalating to a point where he was pacing the length of the house over and over in nervous energy. Cas' face flashed in his mind over and over, a constant reminder of how much he fucked up in three seconds flat. Guilt burned low in his stomach, and his petty excuses seemed weak the longer he thought about it.

_Why did you say that?_

"I didn't want him to know I swung both ways."

_What does that have to do with me?_

"It doesn't!"

_Am I really that bad? That Gross?_

"No dude! I just can't have him knowing I'm gay!"

_Is it really that shameful?_

"I never said that-"

_Yes you did. You called me gross. What's that bad about being who you are?_

"BECAUSE THAT'S NOT WHO I AM! I'M NOT A FUCKING HOMO! I DON'T WEAR POLOS AND GOSSIP AND DO MY HAIR. I'M NOT WEAK"

Even in his head, he fucked up and Cas slammed the door in his face

Sighing, Dean all but ran out of the house under the cover of, "we're out of milk" to go and apologize and smooth things over.

When he arrived at Cas', Dean walked up to the door and hesitated, for the first time in months. The cold stature of the door stared blankly back at him, and he hadn't felt so unwelcome in a while.

"Cas-"Dean started, hesitant. "Hey man can I come in? I have to explain..." Dean trailed off, listening for a sign that he was coming to the door. He didn't.

Rubbing his forehead, Dean leaned against the wood. "Look- I didn't mean it ok? I was just surprised and you were there and Sam was there and I couldn't let… it doesn't matter. I fucked up, ok? Can we just talk?"

After a few more seconds of not even the light sound of shuffling to indicate that Cas was even listening.

"Please? At least answer me, man. You have to give me something."

The silence was all that greeted him, and Dean was just about to give up when he heard a quite, muffled sound.

"No."

Dean felt his heart drop, and he felt even more like an ass than he had before.

"Ya ok Cas. I'll go. But I'm coming over tomorrow ok? Even if it's just to slap me or something, ya? I just need to see that you're ok. So… I'll see you tomorrow. Is that good?"

"No-"Dean heard, straining, "please…"

"I'm coming over tomorrow Cas. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

Cas didn't dignify him with a response.

Dean turned reluctantly away from the door, feeling like shit. He ran through what he had said over and over in his head- cursing every second.

Why would it have been so bad for Sam to know, anyway? He wasn't ashamed anymore; Bobby had worked him through that…

Sighing, Dean returned to the house, sans milk in a gloomy haze.

When Sam saw him enter and opened his mouth to ask why he hadn't picked it up, Sam saw the look on his face and quickly stopped.

He got his answer anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ya! That was... fun
> 
> Thank you all for the support! It means soooo much that you guys are reading and following and favoriting and commenting...
> 
> Every time I get an email my whole face lights up and there is a lot of floor rollling involved... ya. It's beginning to to a problem :)
> 
> Read x Review!
> 
> ~Magnolia


	11. Under My Skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter felt like pulling teeth... I have no idea why it was so hard to write...
> 
> I'm definitely going to look over it again soon to maybe rewrite some sections that particularly bother me, but until then- voila

Today is gonna be the day  
That they're gonna throw it back to you  
By now you should've somehow  
Realized what you gotta do  
I don't believe that anybody  
Feels the way I do about you now

Back beat, the word is on the street  
That the fire in your heart is out  
I'm sure you've heard it all before  
But you never really had a doubt  
I don't believe that anybody feels  
The way I do about you now

And all the roads we have to walk are winding  
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding  
There are many things that I would  
Like to say to you  
But I don't know how

Because maybe  
You're gonna be the one that saves me  
And after all  
You're my wonderwall

* * *

Dean couldn't sleep. The whole night he felt like his skin was too tight, stretching painfully over his body. Nothing he did got him to relax, the stuffy heat of the room suffocating.

The night passed slowly, no amount of tossing or turning getting him to relax enough to unwind and rest. No matter what he did, he couldn't seem to shake the sense of unease that shrouded the room. When the room finally started graying and the sun peaked through his blinds, Dean was exactly where he was 6 hours earlier.

He quickly decided that there was no chance of actually falling asleep, so Dean threw his legs over the side of the bed and blearily jumped into the shower, trying to wash the weariness down the drain.

Dean showered quickly and dressed in the same fashion, feeling an urgency spike in his veins. He fidgeted, pacing his room back and forth and watching the minute hand move slowly around. Finally, when the time was at least somewhat decent, Dean ran out of the house and tore down the street, needing to see Cas.

When he finally reached his apartment, Dean got out and stared warily at the door. He honestly had no idea how he would be welcomed, and the imposing frame of the oaken door did nothing to calm his racing pulse. Sighing, Dean placed his hand against the frame and knocked firmly, the motion unpracticed and awkward.

Dean rocked on his heels for a bit, unsure of how long he should wait to try again. Had Cas heard him? Or was he just ignoring him? Unsure and annoyed with himself for being such a girl about the whole situation, Dean leaned forward and knocked again, firmly.

When he heard slight shuffling from inside the building, Dean sighed softly with relief, expecting Cas to come to the door any second, explain himself, and everything be cool. However, no further noise was made from within the building, and the longer the silence continued, the more annoyed Dean got.

"Dammit, Cas!" Dean said, after knocked again. "I need you to open the door. You don't have to let me in if you're that fucking pissed at me, but if you don't open up right damn now I'm gonna come in whether you want me to or not."

A few more seconds passed in silence, little to no sound being made through the door. Dean breathed deeply, trying to control the irrational fear surging in his blood.

_Not Irrational_

_Cas isn't 100%_

_Something could have gone wrong_

Images of Cas lying on the floor, pale and lifeless- either holding an empty bottle of pills or covered in trails of dried blood filled Dean's mind, along with every other nightmare he's done his best not to dream featuring Cas. All the possibilities, and knowing that they were possible, suffocated him. Each second that Cas had been alone added up like a countdown in his mind, of all the time that things had to go wrong. A person didn't even need thirty minutes for…Dean didn't want to think about it. Instead- Cas had a whole night. Panicking, Dean leaned his weight back, ready to bust the door open to just  _get to Cas_. Now.

Just as he was about to swing his foot forward and hit the door, Dean heard a small click and slowly, oh so slowly, the door swung open.

Cas stood on the other side of the door, small and hunched in slightly. Dark purple bruises stood out on his pale skin under his eyes, and he had changed out of his button downs and khakis in favor of a hoodie and old pair of sweats. Dean's stomach dropped; he hadn't seen that combination in a long time. He didn't even think Cas had kept any of them. He personally was responsible for throwing them all out.

Not all of them

Swallowing thickly around the thick lump in his throat, Dean cleared his throat and smiled shakily, doing his best to look normal. "Hey Cas..."

Cas didn't say anything, just looked at Dean blankly before turning around and walking deeper into the apartment, leaving the door open. After a moment's hesitation, Dean took the invitation for what it was and stepped into the apartment, closing the door softly.

Even though nothing was different, nothing looked the same. Everything was placed exactly where it had been before, yet the usually bright and open room resembled more of a fortress, or a prison. Every blind and door was pulled tightly shut, no outside light entering the small rooms. None of the overhead lights were on either, the only source being one or two of the side lamps which cast eerie shadows over everything around.

Trying to ignore what everything meant, Dean followed Cas into his bedroom and watched him sit on the side of the bed, stiff and unresponsive. A few moments later, Dean moved closer and sat on the bed with him, careful to give him space.

Looking at Cas, Dean broke inside. Something happened, something that Cas wasn't telling Dean. He looked too used to it, to defeated for whatever happened to be something new. He looked haunted- and that thought scared him more than anything.

Realizing that Cas wasn't going to say anything first, Dean looked down and hesitantly started, gaining momentum as he spoke.

"Cas… I'm not going to pretend to know what happened because I don't. And I'm sorry. I want more than anything to always be there for you when you need me most. I fucked up yesterday. I said a bunch of stupid shit and I didn't mean it. When you showed up at my house I was so fucking shocked and stupid- I didn't mean any of it."

Dean ran his hand through his hair, doing his best to not fumble over his words, doing his best to actually say what he means.

"You know. Uh- Sam doesn't- I never told him that I'm… that I can be in to guys. I'm cool with it, and a while back I accepted a lot of shit about myself and that's one of them. Fuck- I'm proud to think guys are hot as hell. I just… It's not something I've ever told my family. My father, he... let's just say for now that he wasn't my biggest fan. There's a reason I have to go to Bobby's too." Dean joked, half heartedly.

"But um…Sam's cool with it, I know he would be. I just… froze. Next thing I knew you were at the door and Sam was calling me out and I freaked. I didn't mean a single fucking thing I said Cas, not a thing. You're so awesome, one of the coolest nerds I've ever met. Sam just- he made assumptions and I was an ass. You haven't done anything wrong Cas, anything."

Dean abruptly finished, knowing he had headed into rambling territory. Nervously, he glanced over at Cas, who hadn't so much as breathed throughout his whole speech.

Cas sat, just as stiffly as before, without the slightest sign of having heard what Dean had said. After a few beats; Cas, without looking, up, spoke softly, without inflection.

"Why would it matter?"

Dean froze, waiting for Cas to continue.

"We aren't together, Dean."

Hesitantly, Dean spoke, practically feeling the thin ice.

"Yah but- he thought we were."

Cas left his head fall incrementally forward and slid his eyes, closed. A picture of defeat and acceptance.

"Am I really that bad of an option? That bad for someone to think we were together?"

Dean shattered, staring at the complete blankness in Cas' face. It looked to porcelain, so fake; yet so fragile. It was a mask, ceramic and cold, yet Dean could read him plain enough through the fold of his shoulders and hunch of his back. And it hurt.

Scared that Cas really believed that, believed any of that, Dean shouted, scaring the both of them, and Cas into opening his eyes and looking at him, really looking at him, for the first time all day.

"No! Of course not! Cas… You're amazing. You're funny, you're smart, you're sarcastic, and you're not afraid to call me out on my shit. Not only that but you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I was so defensive when Sam called you my boyfriend because maybe… fuck… maybe I was a little bit disappointed that you weren't."

_Shit_

Dean stopped breathing, realizing what he had just said. As much as the declaration scared him, the last thing on his mind was taking it back, because even though he had never consciously thought about it before, he couldn't deny how  _right_  it sounded.

That finally startled a reaction out of Cas, making his eyes go wide and breath fasten. Dean's eyes flashed back and forth over his face, flicking back and forth between his eyes and lips, trying to read him. The longer he tried, the more he got tied up on how badly Cas was  _not_ taking his…declaration. The more he thought about it, the more he began to hope.

_Maybe…_

Dean leaned forward then, seeking Cas' lips with his own; needing the confirmation that  _maybe this wasn't as bad of an idea as it had initially sounded._

Cas turned his face away, hiding it in the curve of Dean's shoulder. Dean froze, skin going cold at the silent rejection, yet not pulling away yet as neither had Cas, hadn't punched him with disgust and walked away never turning back.

Cas hid his head, not wanting, no, not ready to allow that to happen. He forgave Dean, he really did. Yet, a small piece of him, the part of him that still had a shred of pride, of self; and the last thing he wanted to do was fall back into his arms the second he apologized. Yet he wanted to, so badly. The knowledge that Dean wanted to be with him… thought about them in that way was just so foreign and  _surreal_ that Cas almost didn't know what to do with it. He wanted so badly to lean forward and kiss him in that moment, and it was only at the last second that he jerked his head to the side enough to cut off the movement.

Instead, Cas stood up and headed over to his closet and pulled out his pajamas, quickly followed by a pair of bottoms that he threw Dean's way.

"I'm tired." He said, in explanation.

Wordlessly, Cas pulled the clothes on and slipped into the bed on the other side of Dean, snuggling deeply under the covers.

Dean stared, slightly stunned, trying to fully comprehend what Cas was offering. Dean pulled off shirt with ease and toed off his shoes before sliding on his pants and slipped into the bed, leaving a generous swatch of the bed in between them both. Not sure what the boundaries were, Dean lay stiffly on his back, sticking dutifully to his side of the bed.

After a few minutes off awkward silence, Cas huffed and grabbed Dean's hand, and manhandled him closer. Going with the movement, Dean scooted over on the bed until Cas was pressed up in front of him, fitting comfortably in the crook of his neck, and his arm was wrapped around his waist. Dean shifted easily, pulling Cas a bit closer against him.

The two relaxed against one another, both exhausted from the night before. They slept holding hands, Dean kissing lightly behind his ear and whispering endearments.

"I'm so sorry Cas. Never ashamed of you, never. Never nothing. Everything. Everything Cas."


End file.
